


Transfiguration (I Felt Your Shape)

by consecrated



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Daryl Dixon & Glenn Rhee Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Power Dynamics, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 56,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1376428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consecrated/pseuds/consecrated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone's changing these days, the living change into the dead, the dead change into the undead, and those who survive change from the hopeful to the bitter. People change, but some people have always been changing.<br/>Werewolves and people held a tentatively stable relationship of cooperation before the world ended, but now it's hard enough for humans to get along with other humans. Rick is determined not to let Daryl Dixon be ostracized for being who he is, and Daryl just wants to be left alone.</p><p>Somehow, the group of haggard survivors transform into a pack, with the aid of one lonely wolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the one you control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: gendered slur, violence

**the one you control. _chapter one._ **

_“When I run through the deep dark forest long after this begun_  
 _Where the sun would set, trees were dead and the rivers were none.”_ \- Wolf by First Aid Kit

The sun was achingly bright. His eyes hurt -- stung, burnt. Rick wasn’t sure what to think, when he saw the wolf howling and laughing on top of that roof like the world wasn’t falling apart around them. Unlike most, the Grimes family had always been raised to appreciate and treasure the existence of werewolves, taught that they were a blessing from God, not to be taken for granted. The Bible had many passages on the beauty and preciousness of the lycanthrope, stories read aloud at bed times. 

Merle Dixon was not a creature of God, that much Rick was sure. Spitting slurs and carelessly throwing his loud alpha voice, Merle was dangerous. He was an unstable, reckless, shivering, shaking, quaking ball of energy.

Rick had only gotten the privilege to meet a grand total of five wolves in his life, and luckily only once was in a situation where he was at odds with one. So to say Rick was not eager to have to deal with the volatile Dixon was an understatement, this wasn't the plate he wanted to step up to in this terrible new world. 

The thought of Lori and Carl filtered in through his doubts and fears, and his grip tightened.

He made sure he didn’t give the wolf time to react, quickly cracking him over the head with the butt of his rifle and slugging him in the jaw, knowing that alone wouldn’t take the alpha out for long. Reflexes sharp, he grabbed his cuffs from his belt, thanking an absent lord for the silver lining of all regulation handcuffs. 

He clasped one around Merle’s thick wrist, the other to a piece of sturdy piping. The Dixon struggled, a low growling coming from deep in his throat.

"Things are different now," Rick said, kneeling to be face to face with Merle, "There's us, and the dead. We survive this by pulling together, not apart."

Merle grinned a bloody, sharp toothed grin, blue eyes narrow as he tested the bounds of the silver cuffs.

Despite the fact Merle was not a wolf Rick would have been told fantastical stories of while growing up, his gut still clenched as they left him to die on that sun beaten rooftop. A selfish part of him hated wasting an immensely valuable resource, another more humane part was mourning the loss of another life in a world slowly rotting.

"Nobody's gonna be sad that he didn't come back...except maybe Daryl.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Daryl Dixon sauntered out of the woods, long legs easily gliding through the brush as he approached the startled group.

His heart thudded quiet but heavy in his chest. This was a wolf Rick’s mother would have told stories of, sharp wary eyes flashing gold in the light, lithe body moving fluidly with each light step, lips pulled back in a warning growl baring unnaturally sharp teeth, scars pulling at the left side of his face telling signs of vicious fighting.

Rick could definitely see Merle Dixon in him though, in the tightness around his mouth and lilt of his voice.

“Who’s this?” The wolf said low and raspy, not meeting Rick’s eyes right away, but when he did his stare was defiant and hard. Definitely not an alpha, but he certainly wasn’t overtly submissive.

Shane knew more about werewolf dynamics and culture than Rick did, though they’d both been to enough workshops and lectures in their training to know enough to handle themselves. Still, practice was more valuable than theory, and neither had a whole lot of hands on experience.

Daryl was too busy mourning the loss of his deer to realize no one had answered his question, it seemed like he was debating just eating it himself regardless of the gaping whole the walker had chewed through it. Rick wondered idly if wolves were immune to the walker infection, they weren’t human after all and he hadn’t seen any cases of animals walking around reanimated, though the Dixon didn’t appear eager to test the theory.

Hoisting his impressive crossbow higher up on his shoulder, Daryl slowly followed the group back, lagging behind a few steps.

Rick could feel him staring into the back of his head, his neck growing hot. They emerged from the woods, Daryl splintered off and started heading around the side of the camp.

“Gotta few squirrels, could be good fer stew.” His eyes shifted around the group, hand clenching. “Where’s Merle.” Of course he’d immediately look for his brother, of course he’d noticed Merle’s scent was absent, of course.

Daryl grew more agitated with the silence, and began pacing back and forth, head slightly bowed. A wild animal.

Rick thought back to the groups conversation last night as he planned his next move.

_“If Daryl flips out, we’re fucked, ok?” Shane had stated bluntly, “If this thing goes bad, we need a backup plan.” His hand_ _held up a bullet, glittering in the light of the fire, an etched symbol on it's bottom signifying it's Authentic Silver make._

_“Shane…” Rick had muttered._

_“I’m just saying, if things goes south, he might end up being a rabid dog in need of being put down, ya feel? If that happens, this is what we do. Stick this in his head. Let the silver do its work.” Shane made a show of putting the bullet in his gun, mouth a hard line._

_“We can work it out. I know we can.” Rick was sure of it._

Rick wasn’t so sure now, watching the tremors of rage shiver down Daryl’s spine. He prayed he wouldn’t shift right then and there.

“Your brother didn’t make it back. He was a danger. He put the group at risk.” Shane told him, looking about ready to shoot him in the head at any second. His hand hovered near his gun, fingers twitching with anticipation. Trigger happy only for the blood of men with a canine persuasion and an Appalachian accent.

“He dead?” The wolf asked simply, words and voice desperate, shoulders hunched. “Just tell me, is he dead?”

“I cuffed him to… to a roof.” Rick spoke his first words quietly, hands open in surrender, trying to display as many submissive behaviours as possible. Rick wasn’t a werewolf, these things didn’t come naturally to him. He felt silly. However, obviously the last thing Daryl needed was another alpha figure towering over him.

Everyone had gathered around now, but maintaining a safe distance away, knowing they didn’t want to be the first ones near Dixon when he finally snapped.

“Fuck you!” Daryl growled loudly, teeth bared, “Ya fuckin’ didn’t give a shit about him. Jus’ some mutt huh?”

“It aint like that.” Rick insisted, “I wish things hadn’t gone the way they did but…”

“Shut up!” Daryl launched himself at Rick, but Shane barrelled into him, throwing the smaller man to the ground.

“Watch out!” T-Dog shouted, spotting glinting gold eyes and shifting jaw of the starts of a transformation.

“Oh no you don’t.” Shane hissed, quickly putting him in a choke hold and drawing his gun, pressing it to Daryl’s temple. “You go doggy on us, and this bullet has a meet and greet with your brain. You get me?”

Daryl spat, teeth already lengthened past his lips, but hesitantly started reversing the shift. "Choke holdin's illegal." Daryl breathlessly retorted, eyes wild at having his throat exposed. Everyone knew the significance of a wolf’s throat. Shane relented a little, letting Daryl tuck his chin in, "Yeah, well, you can file a complaint."

“Let him go.” Rick ordered, kneeling down, “Listen, I just want to talk. Merle was a severe threat… Your brother does not work and play well with others.”

Daryl shut his eyes tight, dropping his head.

“It’s my fault. I dropped the key-- the key to the cuffs.” T-Dog cut in, nervously licking his lips.

“Ya couldn’t ‘ave picked it up?” Daryl whined with a cracking voice, eyes pained.

“...Dropped it down a drain.”

The younger Dixon stood up shakily, arm covering eyes that weren’t capable of crying. Werewolves weren’t biologically able to cry, but Rick knew he would if he could. Sadness and anger seemed to move Daryl’s body in perceptible shakes and shivers, skin dancing, wanting to move and change under the stress and emotional turmoil.

“Jus’ tell me where he is so I can go get ‘em…”

“That’s not going to happen. We can’t risk losing you too.” Rick replied softly, trying not to rile him up again. His instinct was to reach out and touch him, to lay a calming hand on his shoulder, but he knew better. 

“God knows how many werewolves are left, you were a drastic minority to begin with.” Andrea pointed out, “For all we know, you could be the last.”

“As if.” Daryl snapped, “We aren’t as soft as you pussy ass one-skins. After all y’all have killed each other, betcha’ it’ll be the wolves that’re the last standin’.”

Andrea frowned, about to reply, but Shane cut her off, “We can go spouting human-wolf politics all day, but right now we need to know… are you with us? We need t’ know we can trust you, Dixon.”

“And that you won’t go running off after your brother.” Andrea added.

Daryl sneered, not replying for a moment. He huffed, eyes flicking back to the road, then to the group.

“You don’t have a chance on your own, werewolf or not. You need us, and we need you.” Rick pleaded.

Daryl Dixon finally nodded, looking mildly sick. He sat back on his haunches, leaning against the RV, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Obviously he didn’t want to be bothered, and was sick of the spotlight, so Rick approached Shane to redirect both their attentions. His friend was strung up like a piano string, jaw clenched and knuckles white.

“He’ll come around, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, but I dunno if we can trust him, man. Wolves are volatile enough as it is, and we got one whose brother we killed. Not a good combination if you ask me.”

Rick shook his head, “He can probably hear you.”

Shane frowned, shaking his head, “Don’t matter, Rick. He could be a danger.”

“We gotta trust him Shane, we don’t have any other choice.”

Rick heard a crack and pop, like bones being broken and ground together. He turned just in time to see Daryl fall to his hands and knees, fully shifting in mere seconds. Rick didn’t have much time to admire him before that slender, fully formed wolf trotted into the woods, but something in his heart knew this wouldn’t be the last time he’d see Daryl Dixon’s second skin. 

 

* * *

 

 

He didn’t come back until sundown, still down on four legs. Daryl's matted russet fur had leaves and twigs sticking in the tangles and knots, mud covering his legs and large paws. He was larger than an ordinary grey wolf, the Canis lupus, but smaller than the alphas Rick had seen in the past. Regardless, he was gorgeous.

Daryl ignored everyone as he padded across the camp, but ears pricking every time someone moved. He sat down next to one of the tents, swinging his head to stare pointedly at Glenn.

“Oh!” Glenn startled, quickly stumbling forward to kneel down and unzip the tent, grabbing a shirt and pair of pants that were waiting for him. “Sorry, forgot. Here.”

Daryl took the clothes in his mouth, taking care not to catch Glenn’s hand with his razor sharp teeth.  

Rick watch the wolf pad over behind the RV, the sound of grinding bones could be heard all the way from where he sat by the campfire. He winced, wondering not for the first time if shifting hurt. Somethings just weren’t known by humans, the wolves were secretive in nature, it was by pure determination that they knew anything at all about them. The inhumane experiments of the 40s certainly helped too, but people tended to try forget that era of the human-wolf relationship.

“Think he’ll want to join us for dinner?” Carol asked timidly, posed over the pot of soup.

“Doubt it. Probably already tore apart some poor furry critters out there anyway.” Shane griped as Daryl appeared from behind the RV, visibly exhausted.

True enough, there was some blood staining the corner of Daryl’s lips, but Rick didn’t really want to think about it. The animalistic nature of the man -- the wolf -- the creature with the sharp beautiful eyes -- was both awe inspiring and horrifying like all things borne from nature's wildest depths. 

Daryl shuffled past them, limping slightly, headed for his tent. No one bothered to speak to him.

“What do you think about all this?” Lori whispered to Rick, hand on his arm. “I mean, what about Carl? Is it safe? I was nervous enough about staying here with wolves to begin with, but now…”

“How is he supposed to trust us if we don’t trust him?” He pointed out, “We’ve worked hard enough as a society to get passed all the bad blood between us and them, and now isn’t a good time to reopen those old wounds, don’t you think?”

Lori didn’t say anything, looking unsure.

“Lori, we need him. He’s our best chance at getting through this.”

“I’m trusting you on this Rick. I’m trusting you trusting him. But don’t let this be a mistake, please.” She whispered, voice hoarse.

He nodded, looking over at his son, then nodded again. “It won’t be.”

Shane didn’t look so sure, Rick noticed, who kept glancing back at the Dixon tent with a guarded expression.

That night, while curled up with Lori pressed tight in his arms, Rick heard a wolf howling. It was tinged with Daryl's human voice, like a shadow of his human skin was present even in wolf form, crying out in grief with a keening whine.

“He better not keep that up all night.” Lori muttered sleepily, “He’ll keep the whole camp awake.”

“He deserves his time to grieve in the way his people grieve.” Rick said quietly, not wanting to wake their son. “He just lost his brother.”

Lori nodded, snuggling in closer.

The howl trailed off, raw and pained.

Rick wondered if Daryl had had a pack before the world ended, wondered who else he’d lost. The bonds of a pack were strong and not easily broken, not even by death.

Another part of him suspected it had just been him and his brother, an idea that somehow seemed even more painful.

The howling started again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Rick emerged from his tent that morning, Daryl was just heading out, crossbow slung over his shoulder.

“Says he’s going hunting.” Shane answered Rick’s questioning look, “Though if you ask me, he’s just trying to avoid us. He was gone all yesterday too.”

“He probably just needs some space to deal with losing his brother.” Rick said. “Give him time.”

“I have a feeling you’ll be saying that forever.” He replied, “How much time, Rick? You fight to keep him in the group, but then don't care that he's never here.”

“As much time as he needs, within reason. Think if you’d lost me, you’d need time to mourn-” Rick stopped, realizing what he’d said, immediately wishing he could take it back upon seeing Shane's hurt expression.

“Yeah, I did lose you. I did mourn. But I also stuck with the group and made sure everyone was safe. Daryl’s running around like he’s moondrunk, it’s reckless. Aint that what got his brother killed?” Shane snapped, words laced with poison bitterness.

Rick didn’t reply, just watched Carl help Lori collect laundry. He knew there was some truth to Shane's words, but he wasn't about to condemn Dixon for needing some space.

Shane eventually wandered away, leaving Rick to his thoughts. Soon he found he didn't particularly want to think anymore.

He tried to make himself useful, switching off with Dale for guard duty, then went to help Jim gather firewood for the night. Rick was glad for the physical labor, the last thing he wanted was to grow stagnant, sitting on top of the RV, or lounging around brooding over the Daryl situation. It was nice to be able to stretch his legs.

As the sun rose higher in the sky and the day grew hot, he went to the lake to wash his face, eager to cool down and get the days sweat and grime off. The water was nice and cold, making his skin tingle.

Just as he was getting ready to go find Shane, needing something else to do, he heard the sounds of conflict.

Rounding the bend, he saw the women shouting at Carol’s husband, Ed. Laundry was strewn about, and Andrea looked red in the face with anger. Rick hiked up his pant legs and started towards them, only catching the end of the argument before Ed sharply backhanded his wife. Rage flooded him, and he began sprinting towards them, catching the sight of Shane doing the same.

Someone beat them there, though.

A streak of russet ended in Ed being flung backwards. The wolf pinned him to the ground, teeth bared just inches from his face, saliva dripping down. Ed stared up at Daryl in terror, eyes wide, mouth open in a shout. One large paw sent him sprawling, clutching a bloodied arm. Daryl pounced on the disgusting man again, slamming him down with a crunch of breaking bones.

Carol cried out, trying to rush forward but Andrea, Amy, and Jacqui held her back. Shane and Rick were hesitant to intervene themselves, partly out of self preservation, partly out of the fact they weren’t exactly eager to _save_ Ed, a man crueler than the beast snarling down on him.

Daryl growled gutturally, claws sinking into the human's soft flesh, ignoring Carol's screaming pleas.

Finally Rick approached him, “Daryl, Daryl you’ll kill him. Daryl listen to me.”

The wolf jerked, swinging his head to staring at him, mouth open as if to bite.

“Get him off me!” Ed cried, hands bloody, clutching his gored shoulder.

“Daryl!” Shane shouted, “You’re gonna kill him, man!”

He finally backed up, letting Ed go. Carol rushed to her husband's side, blubbering out apologies.

“Go get Dale. Get his first aid kit.” Shane ordered Andrea. “Jacqui, give me that shirt. We have to stop the bleeding.”

Rick let them tend to the wounded man, instead followed Daryl away from the lakeshore. He kept his distance, letting the wolf disappear behind the RV to shift back. When the man eventually returned, frantically wiping the blood off his hands and jaw like a neurosis, Rick walked to him.

Daryl flinched back as Rick approached, eyes wild.

“You’re not in trouble Daryl, no one’s going to lynch you. Anyone of us would have done the same as you… it’s just that we don’t have the physical strength you do. If we snapped and started beating on Ed, he’d get away with a busted face and a bruised ego.” Rick paused, “But when you do it, lives become in danger. You have to be careful, you gotta be able to control yourself.”

Daryl avoided his eyes, chest heaving. Rick knew this speech was nothing new, werewolves spent their whole lives being shamed for their strength and the generalization of having an erratic and unstable predisposition.

“Daryl, look at me?” He knew that was the wrong thing to say, eye contact was an important aspect of werewolf behaviour, but Daryl hesitantly met his eyes anyway.

“I aint no monster. Ed got what he deserved.” Daryl spat, “I can control myself.”

Rick didn’t quite believe him, but let Daryl turn around and disappear into the woods anyway, for better or for worse.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the first, nor the last stupid werewolf au. I'll be working along side most of the canon timeline, though obviously I'm changing some things for the sake of plot and story.
> 
> Update (2017-05-18): I can't believe this story is still going, and honestly it's super cool to see people enjoying it. Fanfic is a tool to cure writer's block for me, but I've become very attached what I've put out here and I'm glad y'all are having as much fun as I am.


	2. the bonds we make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: gendered slur, gore, violence.

**the bonds we make. _chapter two_.**

 

 _“Holy light, oh, burn the night, oh keep the spirits strong_  
Watch it grow, child of wolf  
Keep holdin' on.” - Wolf by First Aid Kit

Daryl could feel a million things at once, but at the moment, he didn’t want to feel a single damn thing.

With a low groan, he sat down, pressing his back up against a nearby tree, trying make himself go away for awhile. Everything was too loud, the moon was too bright and singing too loudly. He just wanted to drift off for a few minutes. Let his mind go blank.

Rage was still shivering through his veins, amongst other emotions. Rage at Ed, for laying a hand on his wife; rage at Shane, for touching him and exposing his throat and restraining him; at Rick, for leaving his pack brother to die all alone tied with silver; at himself, for being a pathetic misch who couldn’t even stand up to a bunch of humans.

Fucking Christ in Hell, this was exhausting. His rage was battling with his utter, gut wrenching grief. Merle was a loud mouthed, racist, ignorant sack of shit who treated him badly and reminded him more of his father each day, but the idea of living the rest of his life without him was horrifying. Merle had taken care of him since day one, so what if he wasn’t a staple form of guardianship, he was his brother. Part of his blood.

He was dead.

Daryl was empty and all howled out from last night, but that mournful call still bubbled at his lips, even though he was in his human form. He just wanted to scream out all his grief. He didn’t want to feel this anymore.

The hollow place where his brothers bond used to be was aching, like a hole had been taken out of his chest. He could physically feel his absence, he hadn’t smelled his musky alpha scent in days, hadn’t heard his rough laughing bark… fuck he was so mad.

Of all the stupid things, Merle Dixon got killed by a bunch of scared humans.

Daryl stood up, kicking at the tree angrily. “Stupid piece of shit, stupid son of a bitch, stupid fucking… why couldn’t you have shut your mouth, you would still be alive right now.”  Chest heaving, he turned and gripped his hair, letting out a wild cry, doubling over, “Fuck you Merle! Fuck you!”

The wind blowed in response, loud in his delicate ears. He imagined Merle’s spirit laughing at him, calling him a pussy, a stupid emotional mischling.

He inhaled, the scent of death drifted toward him from the east. God, he did not want to deal with this right now, but he figured it was best to get rid of them now before they got closer to the camp.

Forcing down his raw emotions, he turned, trying to relax and focus. He pinpointed it to two walkers at most, about five minutes away.

Daryl decided against shifting, the toll on his body from going back to human form yet _again_ later on would probably be too much, so he grabbed a hefty rock, wishing he’d remembered to grab his crossbow on his way out, and breathed in deeply. The scent of rot and old blood filled his mouth, and he followed it through the woods, eyes narrowed so he could focus solely on the scent. Soon enough the telltale gurgles of walkers met his ears: the sounds of them shuffling through the dry leaves, the rough clicking of their exposed and bloody teeth.

He slinked through the trees, footsteps light and back arched, and he quickly spotted them ambling along. They hadn’t seen him yet of course. Making sure he was downwind of them, he crept up, rock tight in his hand. Just when he was close enough to touch them, he lashed out, cracking the first ones skull open with a heavy blow. It went down, brains splattering the rock and forest floor.

The second one turned and snarled, lunging for him.

Daryl quickly arched away from it, smashing it with the rock. The first hit didn’t down the walker though, just jarred it and pissed it off more. Daryl almost, _almost_ tripped, but managed to center his weight and use it to disbalance the walker instead, stomping down with his foot on the soft backside of its head. Blood and brain matter went flying with a disgusting squelching sound.

He stepped back, shaking off his stained foot.  

With the scent of blood and decay so heavy in the air, he almost didn’t smell it.

He froze, whirling around. There it was, off in the distance. From the direction of the camp. The smell of at least twenty walkers, maybe more-- here had to be, for there to be that many individual smells of walking death.

Without a second thought, he transformed, clothes violently ripping as his body grew larger and his limbs twisted with sporadic growths and breakages. He was off running on four legs before he was even done fully changing, bits of cloth still clinging to his growing fur.

_I’m too late I’m too late I’m too late._

The mantra repeated itself, dread heavy in his heart. There were pups in that camp-- kids. Kids, and they’d all be dead, because he was too late. 

His long legs ached, but he pushed on, faster and faster, branches whipping past. He could smell blood and fear as he grew closer, and could hear the blasting shocks of gunfire.

There was still a few minutes of running between him and the camp, and each second was killing him. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, panting heavily.

He wasn’t sure if he could survive with the guilt, if he let this group die. He’d heard Rick talking about him, talking about how much they needed Daryl. Sure, he'd said it so they wouldn't kick him out, but it still rang with truth. Daryl was stronger than they were, they needed him.

He’d failed them.

Daryl burst out of the woods, into the bloody fray that met him. Walkers were everywhere, he leapt up and grabbed one by the neck with his powerful jaws, slamming it into the ground, then quickly lunged for another.

Rick was screaming for Lori, Andrea was hunched over a body, Morales was desperately swinging a knife through a walker’s face… there was blood, Shane was covered in it, Carol was crying and screaming.

The pups were safe, he could see Carl hiding behind his mother, and Sophia was tight in Carol’s grasp.

He breathed a huff of relief, and started ripping through walkers, snarling and tearing, dismembering, disemboweling, and decapitating each walker he found with great lashes of his sharp claws, using his strong jaw to crunch and crack brittle bones.

Daryl heard Glenn cry out in panic, he swung around to see the kid pumping an empty shotgun, cornered by three walkers. The wolf raced towards him, all four paws aching and bleeding from the sharp gravel, avoiding several gnashing walkers, and clamped his jaws down on the first one looming over Glenn, tearing it’s throat out in well practiced move. Glenn had managed to stab one through the eye with his knife, but the last walker grabbed onto him with it's decaying hands, scrabbling to pull him to it's clicking teeth.

In a blink, Daryl snarled and ripped the walker off of him, claws digging into the soft flesh of it's back and slamming it to the ground. He bit it's throat with a spray of dark brown blood.

He noticed the gunfire had dwindled, an eerie quiet blanketing the ravaged camp. All he heard was the sounds of heaving breaths and choked cries, and his own panting.

The sound of blood dripping.

“Th- Thanks.” Glenn rasped out, unconsciously reaching for him to help get up, noticing too late that he’d broken the ‘no touch rule’, but Daryl give it no second thought and used his shoulder to help give Glenn gain leverage.

“Fuck!” Shane swore, stomping out into the middle of the bloody clearing, “Fuck!”

“Shane…” Rick murmured, leaving Lori’s side to calm his enraged friend, “Wait.”

“You fucking piece of shit mischling mutt, if you hadn’t run off like some sorta rabid none of this woulda’ happened!” Shane shouted, striding towards Daryl. He flinched at the slur, a degrading word used casually for all werewolves, but with historical and genetic significance that made his blood boil. “You did this! If you hada’ been here, we wouldn’t have been fucking blindsided!”

Glenn stood in front of Daryl, much to his surprise. He could smell the fear radiating off the Korean pizza boy, but Glenn’s stance was strong.

“Shane, chill out. This wasn’t Daryl’s fault.”

“Like hell it was! Glenn, you saw what happened! If that dog here would have stayed at the camp with the rest of us, he woulda smelt these fuckers coming. No one would have died!”

Daryl cringed, fur bristling.

“Daryl, go shift. Me and Rick will fend Shane off for awhile.” Glenn whispered, “There… there’s some clothes by your tent. You can use those.”

Daryl forced his wolfy head to nod, neck not used to the particular motion, and slowly walked towards his tent, paws sticking to the blood coated ground. He surveyed the dead, and counted at least thirteen of their own. Guilt and sadness were heavy on his stomach, especially when he saw Andrea crouched over her sister, tears streaming down her bloodied face.

He snatched the clothes up with his aching jaw, and made his way behind the RV, taking a deep breath before he started to shift, knowing it was going to be a bitch. He’d already shifted three times in the past 24 hours, and four was a dangerous number.

It felt like he was cramming a whole body into a tiny little suit, as he forced himself back into human form. His skin felt way too tight, as his bones pulled and twisted, skin tightening and tightening until it felt like he couldn’t breathe. His chest was being collapsed into a tiny, shrinking thing for lungs that were used to having so much space. Ears ringing, bones aching, face feeling foreign and raw like he was covered in afterbirth. 

Daryl collapsed against the RV tire, body completely drained. He heaved a gasping breath, head spinning. He managed to reach for his pants, putting them on with jerking mechanical motions, then his shirt. It took some effort to get up, relying on the RV for support. Shivers were running through his legs.

He didn’t want to go back out there, didn’t want to face those people.

“Daryl?” Rick called, his voice was careful, as if he were making sure no emotion coloured it. The human may try, but a werewolf could read deeper than what pathetic surface facades they put on. 

Daryl closed his eyes tightly, then took a few shaky steps, gathering his energy. He turned and walked out from behind the RV, stumbling a little. He was glad for his slightly dulled senses, so the smell of death wasn’t as heavy.

Rick was still talking quietly to Glenn, but once the cop spotted him responding to his beckon, he started walking over.

Daryl sat himself down beside the RV, giving his aching legs a rest, hoping the world would stop spinning soon.

“Daryl… we need to talk.”

The werewolf nodded with a jerk of his chin, not able to meet the eyes of the alpha. He hated to admit it, but humans portrayed hierarchy statuses almost as much as wolves did whether they realized it or not, and he hated it even more when he instinctively gave in to dominant humans. He was a werewolf, he could tear them asunder, but the steady tone of Rick’s voice still made him duck his chin and want to bare his neck.

He didn’t though. He would never give them the satisfaction.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Rick continued, oblivious to Daryl’s internal struggle, “You couldn’t have known. You needed to space, your grieving period. Shane… Shane’s just angry. He’s projecting, he needs someone to be pissed at, someone to blame. And you’re kinda his target lately, so unfortunately you’re his scapegoat. To be honest, I think he blames himself more than anything.” Rick sighed, glancing over at Daryl. “But I do think you should… stay closer to the group. I’m not saying you’re under house arrest or anything, or that you need to be here 24/7, but just, stick closer. In case we need you.”

“He deserves t' blame me.” Daryl growled, “Deep down you know it too, or ya' wouldn’t be telling me to stick to camp. If I hadn’t left, this wouldn’ta’ happened.”

“Daryl, if it weren’t for you, we’d all be dead. If you hadn’t shown up, we would been slaughtered. You saved us.”

_Y’all wouldn’t have needed saving if I had jus’ fucking stuck around._

Glenn jogged over, followed by T-Dog and Jacqui.

“We’re starting to gather up the walkers, making sure we got ‘em all in the head.” T-Dog said breathlessly. “Um, we’re gonna start gathering up the dead too. Our dead. And uh, make sure none of ‘em come back.”

“Alright, Shane, Daryl, and I will join you in a sec.” Rick replied, glancing back at Daryl. “You gonna be ok? You look a little pale.”

“Jus’ the shift.” Daryl shrugged, hiding the fact his knees were wobbling. “I’ll help in a bit.”

“Alright, just don’t strain yourself.” Rick began walking away to find Shane.

Daryl glanced over at Andrea, and his thoughts went to Merle. Fucking Merle. Goddamn it. He couldn’t think about that particular agony right now.

He shook his head and carefully followed Glenn and T-Dog.

“Alright, we’re piling up the walkers over there.” Morales told Glenn, “Make sure they’ve all got a headshot.”

Daryl began helping, working mainly on sniffing out any ones that might still be chomping. There were only a couple, too gored up and immobile to be of any danger, but they quickly stabbed them through the eye just in case and hauled them up onto the pile.

Soon the wolf could feel weakness growing through his legs, and his head grew light and woozy.

“Yo, Daryl, you should probably take a break. You look dead on your feet.” Glenn muttered, “We can handle the rest. How many times have you shifted today?”

Daryl shrugged, “A few.”

“Go sit down.” T-Dog piped up, “We got this.”

He nodded, and shuffled away, catching a glimpse of Carol driving a pickaxe through his husband’s skull, sobbing loudly. His gut wrenched and he forced himself to look away.

A bloodstained chair was laying on its side by the trodden over campfire, so he rightened it and sat down, head in his hands. He could feel the sun rising, his biological clock telling him it was just about dawn.

Just as the sun peaked over the treetops, he heard a shout.

“Jim’s been bit! Jim’s been bit!” Jacqui’s voice called out, and he quickly jumped to his feet, maybe a bit too fast because the world started spinning again.

The haggard group gathered around, staring at the panicking man who was trying to cover his bloodied shirt.

He doesn’t want to say it, but he does. "I say we put a pickaxe in his head. The line's pretty clear; zero tolerance for walkers."

“No, we don’t kill the living.” Rick snaps at him, “Maybe there’s- maybe there’s a cure.”

“There’s no goddamn cure, man.” Shane rasps, “We know that. Jim might as well be dead already, for all it’s worth.”

“For all it’s worth.” Rick repeats sarcastically, “That’s a man’s life.”

“I’m ok…” Jim keep repeating, chest heaving, “I’m ok…”

Jacqui hums comfortingly, trying to keep him calm, “It’s alright sweetie, it’s going to be ok.”

“We go to the CDC.” Rick declares, “Out everything that would be the last place standing. Maybe they’ve been working on a cure or something.”

“Our best chance would be there.” Dale piped up, glancing over at Andrea, “But...”

Rick followed his gaze, eyes growing soft and sad.

Daryl knew it wouldn’t be long before the young sister came back, he could already smell the change in her, in no time those dead lungs would gurgle with a hungry growl. Rick glanced at Shane and nodded, visibly steeling himself before walking over to her.

He knelt down beside her, not saying anything for a moment, then, “Andrea, Amy’s gone. I’m sorry, but you know what needs to be done.”

Daryl turned so he could hear better, watching the exchange. Andrea said nothing, didn’t even acknowledge Rick’s presence.

“Andrea…” Rick moved closer, and Daryl saw the woman swing her arm, pointing her glittering gun right in his face.

Daryl started, puffing up defensively, but Dale put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

“I know how the safety works.” Andrea stated flatly, eyes dull.

“Alright, alright…” Rick back off, hands up. Daryl recognized the signs of faked submission, though humans didn’t see it as such. They didn’t have such strict ideas on power roles and behaviours, despite their direct influence on the birth of power dynamics. 

Wild animals didn't truly need these rules and roles, captivity and human influence was what structured dominate and submissive behaviours -- werewolves and their mundane cousins alike. 

It calmed Andrea down though, and she turned back to her pale, dead sister.

Daryl heard the hollow sound of Amy’s chest rise, just before her eyes twitched open, glazed and pale.

Andrea didn’t do anything, just gazed down at her, mouth shuddering with emotion. She bent over her, breathing her name.

“Amy… Amy, I’m sorry.” Andrea whispered, reaching out to cradle the walker’s face. “I’m so so sorry.”

Daryl tensed up, ready to intervene if necessary, but Dale kept his hand on his shoulder, steady pressure holding him back. Daryl bristled at the ignorant display of dominance, even if the old man didn’t realize that’s what it was. He understood why he was doing it though, Andrea needed this.

She kissed Amy’s forehead, and placed her gun to her sister’s temple in an even kinder kiss of metal. 

Daryl closed his eyes a second before she pulled the trigger.

They all stood in silence for a moment, the ringing of their ears the only sound. No one moved, until Andrea let out a shaky sob and stood up, backing up away from the inert creature that used to be Amy. Dale ran over, reaching out to embrace her, but she ripped away from him, mouth twisted in a vicious noise.

Daryl turned away from the scene, a heavy rock in his stomach.

Things moved quickly from there; they started digging extra holes for their dead and everyone was covered in dirt and blood, struggling to carry corpses over to the graves, each person in a different state of the same shock.

The wolf helped out best he could, slowly regaining his strength and stretching out his now comfortable human limbs. He huffed a deep breath, hauling Ed’s body over to his grave with Morales. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Rick heading off to go check up on Jim who was resting in the RV.

He knew Jim was a dead man, and so did Rick, but the cop would do everything in his power to try to help a lost cause. Even if it meant putting the entire group at risk, chasing some stupid idea of the CDC.

Morales shot him a questioning look at his low growl of frustration, but Daryl just shook him off, “Rick’s gonna get us all killed.”

“Pardon?”

“With this CDC bullshit.”

Morales paused, glancing over to the RV, “I do… I do agree it’s a bad idea. I’ve been talking with my wife. If the group decides to head there… I think we’re going to have to part ways. A man who is a few hours away from turning isn't worth the risk to my family.”

Daryl was glad someone agreed with him, aside from Shane. He didn’t particularly care what Shane thought one way or another, not after that humiliating chokehold.

_He fucking exposed my throat, that one-skin mother fucker._

He sighed, watching Rick exit the RV and walk over to Dale, the two speaking in low voices. Daryl didn’t bother focusing in to hear them, he had more important things to do. If they were going to go all the way to the CDC, which was probably god forsaken anyway, he’d have to get some more bolts for his crossbow.

He’d made a pile of the ones he’d pulled from the walker corpses, but he knew there were probably a bunch still left in the tower of walkers still left to burn. 

Glenn was coming towards him, as he started sifting through the gored up bodies.

“What’re you doing?” The Korean kid asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Getting m’ bolts back.” He grunted, spotting one.

“Need help?”

Daryl side eyed him cautiously, “Sure…”

Together they started searching, pulling three more from the pile. He still wished he had more just in case, but he knew short of a supply run to a Walmart, he’d have to wait.

He bundled together his bloody and dirty bolts, and was just about to set to cleaning them off when Rick spoke up, projecting his voice across the camp, “Everyone! We’re having a group meeting.”

Daryl sneered, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. He followed Glenn over anyway, standing off to the side as they all formed a semicircle around Rick and Shane. It felt like some bullshit summer camp pep rally. 

“We have to decide what we’re gonna do now, Shane thinks we’re better off going to Fort Benning, but I think our best chance is with the CDC.”

“Is it worth the risk?” Morales piped up, looking at his wife nervously.

“Our best chance for any information is there.” Dale pointed out, “They’ve got scientists and labs, they might have found something out.”

Andrea flatly said, “Or the whole place could be abandoned, everyone dead, swarming with walkers.”

“We have to keep hope. Hope’s all we have now.”

“Hope aint gonna do us shit when we’re faced with a swarm of walkers on our way there.” Shane’s voice was hard, “Fort Benning’s probably got military supplies, shelter, everything we need. Not some pipe dream. Are you gonna risk your family for some stupid hope?”

Rick’s lips twitched, but he kept his voice level, “I think the CDC is our best shot right now. Y’all can do what you want, but that’s where I’m going. But it’s best if we stick together, splintering off will get us killed.”

“Well I’m with you.” Dale replied, glancing at Andrea, “You too?”

Andrea shrugged, eyes dead, “Why not.”

“I’ll go… I don’t have anywhere else to go.” Glenn smiled shyly, “I’d be dead on my own.”

The rest of the group nervously shifted around, glancing at each other, whispering under their breath.

“Those who are with me, we leave at noon. Get your supplies packed.” Rick looked to Lori, who nodded supportively with a forced smile. Daryl wondered what she thought of the CDC idea.

The group dispersed, chattering amongst themselves, starting to pack up.

Daryl shuddered, not having a good feeling about their plans at all. He couldn’t exactly leave though, what did he have out there? Nothing. He’d probably last a fair while, hunting and running through the woods, but he knew the solitary life, and knew that left with nothing but his own thoughts, he’d be doomed to die. This group took him and his brother in, and even though his brother was gone, the fragile bonds he’d made with these members, these strangers, still held.

He couldn’t leave them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second working title of this fic is a lyric from the song "I Felt Your Shape" by The Microphones.


	3. space in the universe.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: racist language

**space in the universe. _chapter three._**  

 

 _“I thought I felt your shape but I was wrong  
__Really all I felt was falsely strong  
__I held on tight and closed my eyes  
__It was dumb I had no sense of your size.”_  
\- I Felt Your Shape by The Microphones

 

Glenn was worried about Daryl, about Daryl leaving. He knew the werewolf didn’t think much of their plans to go to the CDC, and was already pretty pissed off at them over his brother. The last thing they needed was him running off, sure Rick had asked to him stay close, but they had no power over him. If Daryl wanted, he could leave any second. It was a terrifying thought.

He didn’t think they stood much of a chance without Daryl on their side. He wished Shane would lay off, especially after that stupid move early with the choke hold. Even Glenn knew it was a bad idea to forcibly expose a werewolves throat, that it was more than just a threat and a power move, it was a direct and personal forced vulnerability.

The wolf in question was off near the woods, cleaning off his arrows, with a sullen expression on his rough, scarred face.

Quietly, Glenn started walking towards him, sidling up to him. Obviously Daryl knew he was there, Daryl seemed to know where everyone was at all times, but he didn’t acknowledge him.

Not wanting to just stand there awkwardly, Glenn reached for one of the arrows ignoring the low growl.

“It’ll go quicker if I help. You still need to time to pack up, after all.” Glenn said, pulling a tattered handkerchief from his pocket and started rubbing down the grimy, gore coated shaft. It was disgusting and it smelled wretched, but it was good to feel productive in such a weird time of limbo, everyone waiting to head off. 

Daryl didn’t reply but stop growling at least.

“I can’t wait until we get to the CDC, I mean, they’ve probably got beds and everything.”

The wolf snorted at that, glancing over at Glenn.

“What?” Glenn frowned.

“Why do you think it’s such a good idea?” Daryl asked, voice clipped, “I mean everywhere else has gone to shit, why should this place be any different?”

He shrugged, dusting off his jeans, reaching for another arrow, “It’s our best shot, and Rick seems to think it’s a good idea.”

“Pht. Rick. Officer Friendly don’t know shit.” He spat, making Glenn jump.

Glenn was curious, Rick had done nothing but support Daryl, and they’d seem to have been getting along ok at least, especially considering the situation with Merle. All things considered the two had been getting along really well.  _Why the sudden hostility?_

Glenn wasn’t about to argue with him though, the last thing he needed was Daryl angry at him too. Plus, he had his own misgivings about the CDC, none that he was willing to voice of course. The thought of finally having four walls and a bed was enough to shut him up, even if it were only a pipe dream. He was tired of the cold and damp, the wind, the penetrating smell of campfire. 

To be able to actually shelter in a real building-- with a roof and everything-

Then it hit him, and he shot the now quiet werewolf a glance.

“Are you claustrophobic?”

Daryl’s head shot up, looking at him incredulously, “Wha'?”

“I- I mean, you being a wolf and all. Not that wolves don’t live in houses! I’m just- just saying… a lot don’t really, right? Ah… sorry.” Glenn trailed off, mouth hanging open with more rambling ready to spew out. He knew many packs were nomadic in nature, with temporary camps and trailers. Only in big cities did you find wolves living in houses and apartments, forced to assimilate to the human way of life.

Daryl snorted, returning to cleaning. “Aint none of yer business.”

“It’s just that I know a lot of wolves prefer living in like, tents and stuff, or RVs ‘n mobile homes… because they don’t like being shut in.”

The redneck snarled a little bit, quietly, but wouldn't meet his eyes. “Jus’ aint used to buildings. Lived in a rundown shack with my ol’ man when I was a pup, but aint been in one since. At least not fer much time... been in a few stores, but don’t like stayin’ in there long.” He shrugged, then fixed Glenn with an icy glare, “Don’t mean I’m scared though! Just aint used to it.”

Glenn nodded, obviously not believing him, but not pushing it. “Well I’m sure we can work something out at the CDC. Maybe you can like, sleep on the roof or something.”

Daryl grunted noncommittally, "Clean th' bolts."

Glenn smiled a little to himself, glad to have gotten to the bottom of that one. People always praised him for his ability to read others, though no one ever praised him for being able to keep information to himself.

He didn’t have enough to time talk to Rick though, minutes later the group was rallied together to prepare to leave. 

“We’re gonna be going caravan style, people. If something happens, honk yer horn so we all stop.” Shane was saying loudly, leaning against his truck.

Morales spoke up, saying he and his family would be driving to Birmingham.

“We’ve got family there. We wish you the best of luck.”

Carl and Sophia tearfully hug the other kids, Eliza and Lois, and Lori embraced Mrs. Morales. It felt too mournful for Glenn’s liking, like they were saying goodbye to the dead. He glanced at Daryl, who seemed to be thinking the same thing. It was an awful feeling to look at someone and already see them as a dead man. 

Rick stepped forward, handing a .357 to Morales, saying a few quiet words to the man. He was cut off though, when Jacqui let out a loud scream.

“Jesus!” Glenn cried, stepping forward, but Rick and Shane were already on it, lunging for the RV. The tall woman lurched out of it, panicked, a cry bursting out of her mouth. A walker was clinging to her, mouth open and desperately trying to bite her.

“Fuck.” Shane swore, pulling out his gun, but Jacqui managed to pull away from her attacker, tears streaming down her face.

It was Jim, lurching towards them, face twisted with hunger. There was no gentle softness to his lips or laughter in his eyes.

“I- I went to go check up on him, I didn’t notice anything wrong at first, but then he grabbed at me!” Jacqui shouted, clinging to T-Dog.

Jim was getting closer, but Shane quickly shot him- it- in the head and it crumpled to the ground. Jacqui let out an involuntary gasp, looking away.

“We shoulda had a guard on him, goddamn it. But you people were too busy treatin’ him like a sick man instead of a fucking walker waiting to happen.” Shane shouted, pacing, rubbing his forehead.

Rick didn’t say anything, just closed his eyes, jaw clenched.

Glenn felt torn, he knew they probably should have been watching him better, but a part of him still saw it as just Jim. Even looking at the walker dead on the ground, he still just saw Jim. He knew he would have to work on that line of thinking-- after all, people were going to die, and people were going to come back as walkers. He couldn’t pussyfoot around it, couldn’t keep thinking of them as his friends, or he’d get killed.

Dale stepped forward slowly, kneeling down next to the bloodied corpse. Glenn could barely make out his words, but it sounded like he said, “Thanks for fightin’ for us.” The old man didn’t stand up right away, gently wiping the blood off the dead man’s brow.

Andrea slowly walked forward, placing a supportive hand on Dale’s head, whispering something to him softly.

“No use moping about it now.” Daryl said no one in particular, maybe he was talking to all of them, maybe he was talking to himself.

“He’s right, we gotta get moving.” T-Dog agreed quietly, rubbing Jacqui’s back. “I’m still in favour of the CDC. Sounds a lot more hospitable than some military base.”

Shane clenched his jaw, looking murderous. He turned to Rick, “We gonna get killed out there, brother. Jim aint a factor no more, there’s no reason to go to the CDC-”

“Jim’s not the last person we’re going to lose, Shane. If there’s a possibility for a cure, we need to find it. The CDC is our best bet.” Rick turned back to the caravan. “Get your stuff loaded. We’re leaving.”

Glenn almost mentioned burying Jim, but at the stricken faces eager to leave the haunted campsite, he shut up and climbed into the RV with Andrea and Dale. He saw Daryl heading for his truck with a grim look on his scarred face, hand clenched around his crossbow like a Christian with a crucifix.

The Grimes and the Peletiers were in the first van, leading the way. Shane and T-Dog were in the truck after them, then the RV, then Daryl took the rear with his pickup.

Glenn sat back, avoiding looking into Andrea’s dull lifeless eyes. He knew how hard it was to loose family, they all did, but he hoped Andrea figured out like the rest of them that it was easier to just pretend it never happened, it took true strength to hold onto the pain of grief.

 

* * *

  

It was inevitable that the RV would break down at least once during the trip there, the radiator hose bursting with a great cloud of steam and a wrenching sound.

It didn’t take long for Shane to throw another fit, though Rick managed to keep him busy finding spare parts for Dale. Glenn heard Daryl muttering something to Rick about making a quick supply run, and soon he found himself being summoned.

“Glenn, Daryl wants to go check out that Walmart we passed a little down the way. Go with him, and take Andrea too.” Rick said, glancing over at Shane. “Shane and T will go look for parts, and I’ll stay here and watch over things.”

“Sure. Let me go grab my gun--”

“No guns.” Daryl cut him off, “Too loud. Can’t risk attracting walkers. Get yerself a blade, I can take care of the rest.”

Andrea, who stood a few feet away, piped up, “I’m not going without my gun.”

“Well too bad missy.” Daryl snapped, “You can barely shoot that thing anyway.”

She gritted her teeth, as if debating if arguing was worth it. Glenn wouldn’t advise it, but Andrea wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind.

“Why do you tell me what do to, Dixon? As if you’re some tough alpha?” She shot, squaring her shoulders, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Don’ talk t' me about hierarchy, you fucking one-skinner. If you were a wolf you’d be a whiny omega who can’t even get a scrap to eat.” Daryl barked, rounding on her.

“What, like you?” She pursed her lips sweetly.

Glenn quickly intervened, as Daryl bared his teeth and looked ready to tackle her, quickly stepping in between the two. “Daryl easy. Andrea, stop egging him holy shit are you trying to get yourself killed? You’ll be fine without a gun, it’ll probably be safer that way anyway.”

Daryl gave a warning growl, but backed off, grabbing his bow and slung it over his shoulder. Andrea shook her head, but followed Glenn after the riled up wolf.

They took Carol’s car, since Daryl didn’t want them mucking up his truck with their ‘human stench’. Glenn drove, Daryl in the passenger seat staring out the window. He wondered if he rolled it down, would Daryl stick his head out like a dog on a car ride? That idea kept a small smile on his face for a little while, despite the tense atmosphere hanging over them.

A low sounds was coming out of Daryl’s throat, not quite a growl, almost a purr-- though it was a sound of anger and frustration.

Glenn turned his attention back to the road, narrowly missing a walker staggering out into the middle of the street. He swerved, shooting Daryl a sheepish grin.

The sky was a nice bright blue, autumn breezes had blown away most of the clouds. The sun was pretty low in the sky though, which worried him. They’d need to be quick, hopefully Dale would fix the RV before they get back, so they could go look for a place to set up camp for the night.

“Focus on the road, chinaman.” Daryl snapped.

“I’m Korean.” Glenn shot back, embarrassed at getting so easily distracted.

Luckily the car ride was a short one, and soon enough they were parked just outside the front doors of a rundown Walmart. Glenn cringed at the bloodstains splattering the front doors.

Daryl was the first one out, hoisting up his crossbow. He lead the way, carefully walking up to the entrance. He pounded on the door a few times, though Glenn knew the store was big enough that there could be walkers that didn’t hear him.

The werewolf nudged the door open, slinking inside. The two humans followed cautiously, painfully aware of how loud their footsteps were compared to Daryl’s.

No power, so the lights were out. Andrea switched on a flashlight, shining it over the floor. There were various items strewn about, it looked like the place had been ransacked a few times over. Glenn spotted a few bodies in the aisle next to them, shot clean through the head.

“What’re we looking for?” Andrea whispered, unzipping her backpack.

“Food, clothes. 'M checking the hunting section. Gotta get some more bolts. Look fer' ammo 'n weapons.” Daryl replied, clicking on his own flashlight. “Glenn, you come with me. We’ll meet you back here in a few minutes.”

Glenn nodded, glancing at a disgruntled Andrea, “You gonna be ok alone?”

“Of course I will.” She snapped, jerking her bag back over her shoulder, “Obviously the poor omega wolf needs your help.”

Before Daryl could snarl at her, she quickly did an about turn and stalked off, heading for the grocery aisles.

“Her sister died last night, can you blame her for being touchy?” Glenn tried to do damage control, wishing Andrea would stop digging at the power dynamics - it was a such a dangerous topic.  

Daryl didn’t say anything, just snorted and started walking off, leaving Glenn to trail behind awkwardly.

They found the hunting section in no time, and as predicted, there wasn’t much for guns. Daryl managed to scrounge up a few boxes of ammo, and Glenn found some new bolts. There were actually quite a few good hunting knives left, so Daryl shoved a few in his bag.

“Why’d you bring me with?” Glenn asked quietly as they picked through the next aisle, “I mean, Andrea probably needs my help more…”

Daryl sighed, rubbing his nose, “Andrea wants be left alone.”

He frowned, “Really? It didn’t seem that way.”

“Trust me.”

Glenn did.

Soon enough they started heading back, picking up a few things along the way they thought would be handy. There were some canned goods laying around, and Daryl managed to find a nice winter coat slung over an empty chip rack.

“I can sometimes sense things.” Daryl suddenly muttered, trying to cram the coat in Glenn’s bag. “Y’know how dogs can sense when you’re sad or scared?”

Glenn nodded, not surprised.

“Well, wolves are the same. Usually it’s jus’ little things, like people’s unconscious behaviours.” He shrugged, “Andrea’s been itching to get away from us, she’s tired of being around people. She needs t’ be able to think things through.”

“Yeah, I get it. Like how you needed to be alone after Merle-” Glenn regretted bringing it up, but Daryl didn’t react, “-it’s just weird to me. After the turn, when I knew my family was probably dead, all I wanted was to be around people. Distract myself.”

Daryl shrugged, “People grieve in different ways.”

“Guess you’re right.”

They made it back to the entrance, where Andrea was nowhere to be seen. “She’s probably still getting stuff.” Glenn offered, worry gnawing at his gut.

“No point in just waiting around, might as well go help ‘er.” Daryl said, glancing outside. “We’d better be gettin’ back soon though.”

“Then let’s get going.” Andrea snapped, making them both jump, Daryl looked like someone had yanked on his tail.

“Fuckin’ christ, woman. Don’t sneak up on me.” Daryl seemed to be biting words back, with a grimace.

She ignored him, “I got some stuff, there was a walker though. Didn’t see me so I just snuck up on it and stabbed it. Nice and quiet.”

“Told ya’ we don’t need no guns.” Daryl grouched, turning to the door, “Les’ go.”

Glenn watched Daryl saunter off to the car, back slightly hunched under the weight of his bag. He looked to Andrea with a small smile, one she didn’t reciprocate, but he didn’t mind.

The drive back was even more quiet than the one there, leaving Glenn to muse to himself.

Daryl had handled being in the store pretty well, maybe he wasn’t as claustrophobic as Glenn thought. Though, they’d only been in there for twenty minutes tops, and it was a pretty spacious building, but Daryl seemed relatively relaxed. He wished he had Daryl’s keen sense of emotions, so he could sniff out the wolf’s anxiety.

He had newfound hope for the CDC though, it was probably a pretty big place, Daryl would be fine. They’d all be fine.

They’d all be safe.


	4. trapped in a world.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: very brief references to sexual assault, as well as an unrelated attempted sexual assault reference to the scene with Lori and Shane. Warnings for descriptions of a panic attack. References to eugenics.

**trapped in a world. _chapter four._**

 

 _“Wolf mother, where you been?_  
_You look so worn, so thin_  
_You're a taker, devil's maker_  
_Let me hear you sing,_  
_hey ya hey ya_ ”  
\- Wolf by First Aid Kit

  

Daryl wished Rick would stop shouting.

Everyone was shouting -- their voices and spirits shrieked and howled, desperate, cornered wild animals. Carol was crying, Shane was swearing and spitting like an abused cat, and Lori looked like she’d given up. Daryl circled around the group, keeping watch on the walkers while everyone broke down. Someone had to keep their head straight at the end of the line, had to be strong so the rest could collapse under their own weight. If he had a role as a werewolf among humans, he could be this. He could do this for them. 

“You’re killing us!” Rick screamed at the camera pointed at them, affixed to the wall of the CDC. Daryl knew there was no point, his raw voice was falling on deaf or dead ears and the walkers had already gotten between them and their cars. The countdown to the end had begun.

He prepared himself for the shift, rolling his shoulders back. They’d probably die tonight. Maybe not Daryl, but these humans would. He couldn’t protect them all, not this time. 

Daryl flinched, hearing the loud, creaking sound of the door opening, blinding light bathing the decimated group. They all turned, staring into the brightness, as one man walked out. Even from where he stood, Daryl's fine tuned senses could smell the alcohol on him. He bristled, this was their saviour? 

"Why are you here, and what do you want?" The man asked them, clutching an automatic. He was dressed in a simple cotton shirt. He didn’t look like a scientist. Dread crawled up Daryl’s throat.

"A chance." Rick simply stated, taking a step forward.

"That's asking an awful lot these days." The man replied, gazing over them, lips tight. He looked old, but not in a physical way. He was probably in his mid thirties, but his eyes belonged to a stone cold mummy. Like he belonged in a museum. “I’ll let you in, provided you allow me to take a blood test of everyone here.”

“We can do that.”

He nodded stiffly, “Grab your things. Once this door closes, it stays closed.”

Daryl tensed, looking back outside. He tried not to panic, tried not to think of it as being locked in, instead as locking the walkers out. He’d be fine. It was fine. It was all fine.

They all filed inside, backs heavy with their bags, Daryl’s held his bow close to his chest.

“I’m Doctor Edwin Jenner, but most just call me Jenner.” The man introduced himself as they push themselves into an elevator, reminiscent of sardines in a very small can. The smell of fear always smelled a bit like fish to Daryl. 

“Do doctor’s always go around packing heat like that?” he snarked, pushing his back to the far wall, trying not to touch any of the group members.

Jenner glanced at him, looking him up and down, “Do wolves always run around with a pack of humans? Things have changed since the world ended.”

Daryl frowned, consciously pulling his lips back over his sharp teeth, unaware he was snarling.

“Are we underground?” Carol asked quietly, apparently noting as well as he did that the elevator was going down, not up.

“Yes. Are you claustrophobic?” Jenner replied, glancing at the shy woman.

“A little…”

“Try not to think about it.”

Daryl ignored the looks Glenn was sending him, focusing instead on not shifting out of panic.

The elevator shuddered to a stop, and the spilled out into a large room full of workplaces and computers, a large screen mounted in the center.

“Vi, lights on in the big room.” Jenner turned to them, “Welcome to Zone 5.”

The doctor left them to explore while he got out the blood kit. Daryl sniffed around the chairs, no one had been here for weeks. The only scent he smelled was Jenner’s, all the rest were stale and barely there. A few times he caught the sharp scent of blood, very old, but still there all the same.

“You the only one here?” Daryl asked, glancing over at the doctor.

“I’m the only one left.” Jenner nodded, preparing a needle, “Who wants to go first?”

Jacqui and Rick took their turns, then Andrea.

“If If we were infected, we'd all be running a fever," she scoffed, letting him insert the needle anyway.

“Humor me.” Jenner replied.

Daryl hoped he’d just be skipped over altogether, heart racing. The dawning realization of what was happening hadn't caught up with him in the shock of events, but suddenly time had seemed to speed up and then stop all at once. 

Finally it was his turn though, and Jenner looked up at him expectantly.

“We dunno if werewolves can even get infected.” He muttered, but sat down anyway, sending off a prayer to whatever god would listen: Loki, Kwatee, Anubis, Cerridwyn, Fenrir, Artemis. Jenner was only testing for the virus. There’s no reason to think he’d see anything. See _it_.

“Better safe than sorry.”

Daryl winced as the needle pinched his skin, having vague memory flashbacks to Merle with that dumb syringe always in the crook of his arm. Now was not the time to be thinking about heroin.

A little dizzy from the loss of blood and the empty stomach, Daryl stood up.

“When was the last time you all ate?” Jenner asked, packing up the blood samples.

The group looked at each other, blinking.

 

* * *

 

Daryl felt far more relaxed with the buzz of wine warming his brain. He breathed out deeply, his stomach happy to have something inside it for once.

All the tension and terror seemed to have evaporated, and the group ate and drank. It was like no one had ever died, like Jim hadn’t tried to rip a friend apart, like Amy didn’t have her neck torn out, like Merle had never been lost to that sun beaten roof.

They were smiling, laughing. Glenn’s cheeks were pink, as he leaned against Carol. Sophia sat quietly beside her mother, still eating. Eating like it’d be her last meal.

Daryl put the wine bottle to his lips again, his sharp canine’s clicking against the glass rim. He hadn’t had wine like this in years.

“Go easy on that, Daryl.” Rick warns, still grinning. “Wolves have a pretty low tolerance level.”

“Go fuck yerself, one-skinner.” Daryl sneered good-naturedly, “I could drank you under the table.”

“Language!” Lori admonished, covering Carl’s ears.

“I think at this point, the kid’s used to it.” T-Dog drawled, chuckling. “Yo, Jenner. Thanks man, we needed this.”

Rick nodded, raising his glass, “To our host.”

Jenner smiled awkwardly, quietly raising his glass.

“This is all fine and dandy, but I’ve got a few questions for our ‘host’. What the hell happened here?” Shane frowned, taking a swig from his glass. “There aint nobody here.”

“I don’t think that’s very good dinner conversation…” Lori muttered, glancing at Jenner apologetically.

“Most people left. When things got bad.” Jenner stated, ignoring Lori. “Went to be with their families. Some stayed, and kept working.”

“But…?”

“Most of them… opted out, if you will.”

The air became a little thicker, a little heavier. Daryl swallowed another long drink of wine, remembering the blood scent, “I could smell it. In the main room.” At everyone’s confused looks, he elaborated, “The blood. I could smell blood on the chairs.”

“I tried to clean it up as best I could. I couldn’t stand to work in a graveyard. Wasn’t expecting a wolf visiting though.” Jenner gave a small half smile.

“But you stayed.” Carol said sombrely, “You kept working?”

He shrugged, “I wanted to try to do some good.” The doctor stood up, “Let me show you around, looks like everyone’s done. You can stake some food and drinks with you, I’m not exactly worried about messes.”

Jenner led them out of the cafeteria, down the maze-like halls, showing them around. Daryl was buzzed, letting a dopy Glenn hang off his arm as the younger man told him a story he wasn’t listening too. He was trying hard not to feel like a rat in a scientific experiment, being led down halls of a maze he couldn't escape. 

“Try not to use too much hot water.”

The group excitedly started chittering, as humans usually do when hot showers were mentioned. He would never understand their strange obsession with cleanliness, it wasn't that werewolves were unclean creatures for of course they groomed themselves in their wolf form, but they were still creatures of dirt and earth like their cousins in the wilderness. Even in his human form he'd take an earthen den, a burrow to curl up in, over this sanitized place with no soul or substance.  

Daryl managed to disengage from Glenn, going off to stake claim to a room. The walls were starting to close in again, killing his buzz. He’d never been down halls so narrow, never in his life. 

There was some size variation, so he snooped around, scouting out the biggest one. Luckily the bed was position near the middle of the room, so he wouldn’t have to sleep too close to the wall, if he slept in a room at all. Maybe he could camp out in the main room, or the lobby.

While the others showered, Daryl wandered. Half of him was looking for a nice open place to sleep, half just wanted something to distract himself. He wondered which part was wolf and which part was human, or if as usual he was a jumbled mix of both desperate to keep from going insane. 

Eventually he found himself stumbling into the main room, wine bottle still in hand. Rick was just leaving, looking mildly upset. Daryl gave him a respectful dip of his chin as the cop past, though Rick didn’t pay him much heed.

Jenner was sitting at one of the stations, working on their blood samples. A thrill of anxiety went through him.

The doctor looked up at him, surprise flickering on his face, “I wasn’t expecting so many visitors tonight. Especially not you.”

Daryl shrugged, glancing at the blood, “How goes it?”

“No surprises.” Jenner replied, then paused, “Well, except for one.”

Daryl froze, chest halting mid breath.

“I won’t say anything to your friends.” He continued, “I’ve always been a very open minded person. Though the scientist in me desperately wishes I had more time to examine you.”

“Fuck off." Daryl snapped, exhaling. “To not shoot me right on th' spot, that’s not open mindedness, that’s insanity.”

“Maybe I went crazy with the rest of the world.” Jenner shrugged, “Your heritage is no problem to me. Societal norms are obsolete.”

Daryl gritted his teeth uncomfortably, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Jenner regarded him, eyes musing, “Was it your mother or your father?”

The wolf flinched, “My mother. She wasn’t exactly a willing participant though.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be asking, it’s none of my business. I still have a scientific curiosity though, you should have seen me when I saw your blood. I’ve never a michling before-- er, I mean a half blood. Pardon the slur.”

“We all get ‘purged’. How often do you hear of an actual misch living past twenty?” Daryl bristled, he’d give anything not to be having this conversation right now, "There's a reason the word 'misch' is thrown around so lightly, none of us actually survive. Y'all use it as a slur against us, cus you never expect one of us to actually be one." 

“How’d you manage? How'd you survive?”

He shrugged, looking away, “It weren’t easy. Dixons are tough as nails though. Aint so easily exterminated.”

“Do they know?” Jenner asked, referring to the group, voice soaking in sympathy. Daryl shook his head in response.

He didn’t want to know how it would go if they found out. Sure, his parentage never was a big deal to him, since he spent most of his life relatively isolated from anyone, wolf or human. When he finally did integrate himself into society, it was fairly easy to hide his mixed blood. Almost all human genes were recessive, he could usually pass as a full blooded werewolf.

It was of the utmost importance that he had been careful though. While human-werewolf relationships were not strictly speaking illegal, merely very frowned upon, reproduction was. Strictly enforced laws kept mixed couples in line, and conception was difficult and rare in any case. If a pregnancy did occur, most known mischling children were culled. Medically, mischling children were believed to be unlikely to survive in any case, and socially, to be a cross breed was a sign of bestiality and horror in most western societies. Things were a bit more lax in Europe due to the more mixed societies, but things had not changed in America in decades.

Daryl had been lucky enough to make it as far as he did, and when the world finally ended, he didn’t think it would ever be a problem again.

Jenner continued his work, looking over at him every once and awhile, until he finally spoke up again, “What’s it like? Being half blooded?”

“Pretty much the same as being full blooded I guess.” Daryl huffed out a breath, “Shifting is harder, strains me more. It’s easier t’ understand and sense human emotions, my brother was always horrible at that. He was pure wolf, always teased me fer being overemotional.” He didn’t know why he was telling Jenner all this, maybe because he finally could. He could never talk about it before, to anyone. It was… liberating. “There’s some biological differences too. I can uh, cry, and silver isn’t as effective. I mean, I can at least touch it without pain, that is. An’ I don’t heal as fast.”

“But you can still shift? And you’re still… ‘affected’... by power hierarchy?”

“Yeah.” Daryl nodded, “Pretty much everything’s the same. My wolf skin’s a little wonky at times, though. My eyes never seem to get quite right, and I’m a little smaller than the average.”

“Interesting.” Jenner appraised him thoughtfully, “If the apocalypse weren’t upon us, I’d have a field day questioning you. I’ve met a fair few wolves in my day, comes with the territory when living in Georgia, and god it was amazing to talk to them. I’ve always wanted the opportunity to interview a misch- ah, I mean half blood.”

“Probably would rather dissect one though.”

Jenner grimaced, looking down, “If I ever came in close proximity with a half blood, that would probably be the circumstance.”

Daryl nodded, understanding. They fell into silence, and eventually Daryl changed the topic.

“Are there any other spots I could sleep? Not much of a fan of rooms. Can I stay in the lobby or something?”

Jenner paused, “Sleep where ever you want. Mi casa es su casa.”

Daryl snorted at that, standing up, feeling an ache deep inside him. His buzz was long gone, and he looked forlornly at his mostly empty bottle. He’d rather fall asleep drunk.

After a few minutes of hunting through the narrow halls, he grabbed the blanket off a bed in one of the rooms and dragged it all the way to the lobby, thankful at least for the windows, giving the illusion of space and freedom. The sun had set long ago, and he could see the shapes of walkers shuffling around in the distance outside.

Throwing the blanket on the ground, he paused, looking up at a nearby camera. Shaking off his self consciousness, he stripped down and quickly shifted. Thankful to take off his human skin, he stretched deeply, yawning. The shift had purged all the alcohol from his system, and he mourned the loss.

Daryl pawed at the blanket, then curled up in it. He spent a few minute licking some of the dirt out of the fur on his shoulder, then tucked his snout under his front paw and let himself drift off.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning he thanked god for being able to shift, not having to deal with the hangover. He didn’t shift back right away, wanting clean clothes. He nearly gave Carol a heart attack when she ran into him in the hallway, apparently she wasn’t prepared to come face to face with a giant wolf first thing in the morning.

She smiled, hesitantly reaching out a hand to pet his snout, much to his displeasure. Despite this, he gave her a friendly bark of a welcome and continued on his way. Luckily he found Glenn and managed to convey his intent, still incapable of operating zippers while in his wolf skin. Even Glenn had trouble enough with it, obviously terribly hungover as he cursed and swore at the bag he was trying to open.

In the privacy of the CDC bathrooms, he slowly shifted back, wincing at the tightness in his joints. As much as he loved sleeping as a wolf, the morning shift was always pretty rough, like falling asleep in an uncomfortable and aching in the morning. He quickly got dressed and shuffled towards the cafeteria, still yawning.

Almost everyone was already there, eating and talking quietly amongst themselves. Daryl chuckled at Glenn, T-Dog, and Rick who all seemed to have been hit the worst by their hangovers. They were positively  _drooping_ over their plates, bodies limp and eyes half closed.

His eyes were drawn to Shane though, who sported several long gashes on his jaw and neck. They were clearly made from nails.

Shane was obviously right handed, as he reached for his glass, so there was no way he did it himself. He would have used his right hand if it had been an unconscious thing, and he would have to be in a very awkward position to achieve the angle that the scratches arched on. 

Sure enough, as he snuck closer to him, he could faintly smell Lori on him. So whatever went down, went down after he had his shower.

Daryl glanced over at Lori, studying her. If Shane had hurt her in anyway, the wolf would kill him. No second thoughts.

The two seemed to be fine though, there were a few long glances between them, he could sense the tension and slight hostility, but nothing drastic. They could be hiding it, but he trusted his abilities were more refined than their ability to control their unconscious tells. 

Hedidn’t want to get involved. It looked like Lori paid him her own punishment, and if there was no current conflict, he’d leave it be. He wasn't judge, jury, and executioner just because he had the most strength in the group. 

Eventually they all wound up in the main room, goofing off and hanging out at the work stations. Carl and Sophia played on the chairs, elated to find out they spun. It was nice to see the pups- kids- playing like they weren't facing the end of the world, a different kind of turn of the century. It was easy to forget the two would never have a proper childhood, Daryl could sympathize with that.

Jenner showed up after a little while, looking a little worse for wear. Haggard. Worn down. The doctor walked over to his main computer, and stared into the screen for a few minutes like he'd started to do something then forget half way through, brain buffering. 

“How’d the blood testing go?” Shane ask, from where he sat near the entrance, looking very much like he was on guard duty.

“Just fine. No infections.” Jenner replied, suddenly tapping a few things into his computer, “I didn’t expect to find anything, just wanted to be safe.

Shane nodded, satisfied with the answer.

Daryl stumbled, shocked as he was suddenly pushed forward by an unseen force. He bristled, prepared for a fight, but looking down he saw it was just a nervous looking Carl.

“Sorry Mr. Dixon.” The young boy sputtered, fear in his wide eyes, “Please don’t eat me.”

The wolf choked on a hoarse laugh, unable to contain it. On the other side of the room, he heard Rick call out, “Watch where you run, Carl.”

“I don’t eat people.” Daryl said, grinning slightly, though his chest tightened a little. He consciously pulled his lips over his teeth, not wanting to further scare him.

“Shane said that werewolves eat bad kids.” Carl confessed, “Sopha said so too.”

“They’re yanking yer chain, kid.”

Daryl watch Dale slowly approach Jenner, hands in his pocket, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you. That clock over there looks very… ominous. What’s it counting down to?”

“The basement generators. They run out of fuel.” Jenner replied solemnly, not looking at him. 

"And what does that mean?"

There was silence, as the playful mood slowly came to a crashing halt. All where listening in now, an ambience of nervousness plaguing the room. They'd missed something, something big, that had been hanging over their heads since they'd arrived. 

“At zero, plant-wide decontamination will occur.”

Daryl mouthed the words the doctor has spoken, blood chilling.  _Decontamination._

Rick was whispering to Lori, Daryl could hear them. He was telling her to go get their things.

He looked to the clock, there was only about twenty minutes left, and he definitely didn’t want to experience first hand what ‘plant-wide decontamination’ meant. He slipped away from the nervously chittering group, pulling his vest tighter around him as he went to get his bag and crossbow. They had to get out of here, he didn’t like the guarded, broken look on Jenner’s face. Something was wrong. Obviously decontamination didn't just involve some antiseptics and a nice wash down. 

Armed, and fully prepared to leave right that second, he reentered the control centre. Carol looked mildly panicked, and Shane was swearing.

“I miss anything?” Daryl muttered, glancing at the still quiet Jenner.

“We have to get out of here. This place is gonna blow.” T-Dog told him, “But this mother fucker says we have to stay.”

“What’s the deal?” The wolf snarled, dropping his stuff, “What give you the right t’ keep us in here?”

An alarm went off suddenly, making Daryl jump. A door slid shut behind them, clicking with a loud sound that made his skin crawl and bones grate.

“When that door closes, it wouldn’t open again- you heard me say that.” Jenner insisted, still not looking at them.

“We were not properly informed of what we were signing up for.” Rick hissed, looming over him. “You can’t keep us here!”

Daryl could feel the walls closing in on him, like a cage.

A cage.

_Cage cage cage cage cage cage cage cage cage cage cage..._

He accidentally hip checked a chair in his panic, sending it sprawling. His breath caught in his throat at the noise, almost shifting on instinct.

“Calm down.” Daryl ordered quietly, with a shaky voice. He found he could not obey himself, chest shuddering as his lungs pushed air out in gasps.

He pushed his way to the far wall of the room, body shaking. There were loud footsteps, and he snarled, teeth elongating. He couldn’t recognize the faces, panic making them faceless. Just people. Threats.

Two of them were approaching him, cooing soft unintelligible words. Daryl pressed himself to the wall, growling, mind racing. _Do I shift? Do I shift?_

“Daryl, hey, breathe man.” Shane, was that Shane? Shane, who forced him to bare his neck in front of all those people… Threat. Threat. Danger.

“You’re freaking him out!” Another voice snapped, Shane’s faceless partner slowly coming into focus, T-Dog.

Daryl hesitated, finally recognizing his ‘attackers’.

“Not… no... threat.” He told himself, trying to pull himself together. He forced down another growl when T-Dog moved closer.

“Not threats man. Now just, try to calm down, ok? We’re all worried about ya.”

The wolf looked around, Rick was holding Lori and Carl tight, Andrea sat blankly on a chair, staring at the clock. Jacqui was beside her, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Give us our chance, Jenner.” Rick whispered, echoing his first words to the man. “Give us our chance.”

The doctor finally looked up at him, “What chance? There’s nothing for you out there but death. You’ve seen it. We all have. I am giving you a chance, a chance to escape it.”

“Let us keep going as long as we can, _please_. You can’t do this to us!” Carol sobbed, clutching her daughter.

Daryl heaved a breath, still shaking. He met Jenner’s sad eyes, hoping the man could read the plea in his face. No one spoke for several painfully long moments, the air seemed either extra thick or pathetically thin, either way it was that much harder to breathe.

Suddenly the door opened, a rush of cooler air rolling into the room.

“Thank you, thank you!” Rick shouted, grabbing his wife and son.

“You’ll regret this some day.” Jenner whispered, turning back to his screen. Daryl realized it was not the screen he was looking at, but the picture frame beside it. His wife most likely.

Glenn helped Daryl up, staying at his side as they quickly made their way to the door.

“Good luck, Dixon.” Jenner muttered as he past, but Daryl didn’t acknowledge him.

Jacqui didn’t move, and neither did Andrea.

“Andrea, c’mon!” Dale shouted, running towards her.

“We’re staying.” Jacqui whispered, looking to Andrea.

“No, no you can’t! Andrea, Amy wouldn’t want this for you!” Dale begged, eyes wide.

“This is my choice, Dale.”

The others had left, running for their lives. Daryl hesitated, reluctant to leave members behind. They weren’t his pack, but he still felt obligated to protect them. It was an awful thing.

“If you’re staying, I stay too.” Dale was insisting, “You don’t get to do that. Come into somebody’s life, make them care, and then just check out.”

“I’m not your problem Dale!” She shouted furiously, tears welling in her eyes, “Fuck you, fuck what you think. Don’t put this on me.”

Daryl took a deep breath, and met Dale’s eyes. He soundless made his way around the trio, footsteps light. Without a word, he swung his crossbow around and winced as it collided with Andrea’s temple.

He turned to Jacqui, who shook her head, “Don’t try that with me, sweetie. You know as well as I do that there’s nobody waiting for me out there, hoping I make it out alive.”

Daryl felt sick, eyes tight with pain, “Please.”

She looked at him dead in the eye, then looked to Jenner. She reached over and clasped his hand, closing her eyes.

Daryl glanced at the clock, they only had a few minutes left.

He hefted Andrea’s still form over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and headed for the door, Dale right behind him. His knees ached at the extra weight, but adrenaline kept him running. In his head he was counting down, each second ticking by. The only sound he heard was his quiet, yet laboured footsteps and Dale’s heavy breathing.

They emerged at the entrance of the main lobby, and his eyes were immediately drawn to the giant hole in the window, glass strewn about. Together they carefully climbed through it, avoiding being impaled by the jagged edges. There wasn’t much time left, it was a matter of seconds now. Time was slowing down in their minds, but real life was still speedily barreling down a linear timeline around them, headed for a destination that didn't care what was happening in their heads. Fire would rip away at them. The air would explode. The air in their lungs would combust.

Rick and Glenn were screaming at them from the RV, waving their arms. They wouldn’t make it in time, though. There was no way.

Daryl suddenly spotted a pile of sandbags, just far away enough that it might not be hit by the explosion, but close enough that they might be able to make it with their feeble mortal legs.

Something primal inside him jerked, and he knew it was time.

Violently shifting into wolf form faster than he'd ever done before, Daryl shoved Andrea’s body over the sandbags, hurdling Dale to the ground as well, using his now larger body to provide extra shielding just as a loud tearing sound of air catching on fire ripped across Atlanta.

Heat blasted him, sending them all flying backwards. Daryl gritted his teeth, curling tighter around the two humans, feeling his fur burn across his shoulders.

And then, just like that, it was over.

They’d survived. It was simply that simple.

Shakily standing up, ears flicking back and forth as soot and ash settled over them, he let out a quiet whine. Dale gazed up at him, black smudged across his nose and brow. The man had Andrea tight in his arms, a grasp loving and tender.

Rick and Shane came running towards them, Glenn and Carol close behind.

“Are you guys ok? Holy shit, holy shit!” Glenn was saying, a wide smile ripping across his face. “You made it. Oh my god.”

Dale struggled to sit up, still clutching Andrea’s still form. He looked about ready to cry, out of relief or sadness.

Daryl shook himself, clouds of ash dislodging from his singed fur. Rick approached him quietly, hand pressing against the heated side of his snout in a gentle, comforting way, trailing over the patchy fur were scars blemished his skin.

“You’ve got some pretty nasty burns on your shoulders. I think we have some ointment in the RV.” Carol said quietly, “You should probably shift back though, it’ll be easier to get to them and bandage them up.”

“I’ll get you some pants.” Glenn piped up, dashing back to the RV, while Shane knelt down by Dale and Andrea.

“What happened to her?”

Dale bit his lip, glancing at the wolf beside them, “She wouldn’t leave, so Daryl knocked her out.”

Shane shot Daryl a look, though it was neither judgemental nor angry.

“He saved her life.” Dale added.

Daryl made a guttural noise in his throat, self consciously licking the ash off his chest. He flicked his ears, watching his pack- no not his pack. These people weren’t his pack.

He watched his- his group hug each other, smiling, laughing out of pure relief of being alive. They were so goddamn happy. Pain swelled in his chest, knowing that they had lived today, but tomorrow was a new day.

They would die, just like everyone else.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still pissed that no one tried to save Jacqui in the show. That lady deserved some loving.


	5. remus and romulus.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV switch half way through, from Carol to Daryl.  
> CW: vague references to abuse, and one misogynistic slur.

**remus and romulus. _chapter five._**

_“Our mother has been absent ever since we founded Rome_  
_But there's gonna be a party when the wolf comes home”  
_ _-_ Up the Wolves by the Mountain Goats

 

Daryl was refusing their help, twitching away from them whenever they tried.

He wouldn’t even shift, to Carol’s disappointment. Still in his wolf form - or, skin, as their people called it, he paced back and forth as Dale tended to Andrea’s head injury.

“You’ve got to shift back so we can check your burns.” Carol could hear Rick tell him, and she wished dearly that the stupid creature would listen to him.

Daryl only snapped his jaws at him, half heartedly though, obviously with no intent to harm. It was a warning, that next time it would be real, next time he'd use those powerful teeth. 

“We don’t have time for this. Shove him in the RV and let’s get going!” Shane snapped, wiping sweat off his forehead, “T-Dog can drive his truck.”

Daryl snorted, licking his lips in a nervous manner. His muscles rippled as he trotted away from Rick’s outstretched hand, acting like a wild animal, not like the Daryl they knew.

“Please, come to the Winnebago. No one’s going to make you shift back, we just need to get going. That blast is attracting walkers, we can’t stay here.” Carol knelt down, smiling softly as him.

Daryl paused, blinking at her slowly. She remembered with cats that was a sign of trust, but with Daryl, she had no idea.

She careful held out her hand, noticing he didn’t immediately flinch away.

He let out a breathy huff and bumped her hand with his nose, then turned away and headed for the RV, shaggy tail swishing with agitation.

“Why don’t you stay with him, you’re the only one who’s managed to get through to him.” Lori quietly spoke to her, “We’ll look after Sophia for you.”

Carol nodded slightly, glancing over at her daughter, “Is that ok with you, Soph?”

Sophia nodded quickly, glancing at Lori.

So Carol walked over and opened the RV door for him, watching the wolf carefully clamber up the steps. She felt anxiety tighten in her empty gut.

It was weird being in the RV with him in this skin, Daryl curled up near the far corner of the RV, eyes watching everyone’s movements. Dale was helping a groggy and disengaged Andrea up the steps, while Glenn followed awkwardly.

Glenn and Andrea had taken the seats by the table, and Carol didn’t particularly feel welcome, so she sat in the corner across from their new disgruntled passenger, plastering a pleasant smile on her face.

As the engine started and they went on their way, Carol studied Daryl. She could see raw flesh across his shoulders, red and weeping. His fur was already pretty patchy from dirt and scars, but with the burns he looked like one of those stray dogs you see on the SPCA commercials.

Daryl lifted his head, as though sensing her watching him. She met his large blue eyes, watching them flash to gold and back. She’d never seen a werewolf’s eyes do that, usually after the shift they stay that telltale brilliant ochre. Then again, she’d only ever met a few werewolves in her life. She remembered the little gold eyed girl that Sophia had been friends with from school, the pup’s parents were a real conservative type, who didn’t believe in early human immersion but the girl had insisted on it. It wasn’t unheard of for wolf pups to go to human schools, though it wasn’t exactly common.

Carol remembered she had a beautiful traditional name, Tsitadel'. Tsitadel’ had elected to go by her birth name, and despite choosing to go to a human public school, was proud of her name and heritage.

It made her wonder if Daryl had kept his name, or if he, like many others, cast it away to go purely by a chosen human one.

They hit a bump and Daryl whined with irritation, scratching at the floor with his claws.

“Maybe you should just shift back.” Carol offered, shrugging. “The bathroom’s just over there.”

The big wolf gave a raspy bark, but finally stood up. He swung his snout to stare at Glenn. The younger man jumped, mumbling an apology, getting up to grab a pair of pants slung over the back of his chair.

Andrea was watching him, her numb face blank and eyes expressionless. Carol wondered if it was partly due to the head injury, or if it was all to do with the shock of the events these past few days. The poor girl had been truly battered by circumstance. 

Daryl grabbed the pants with his toothy mouth, then let Glenn open the bathroom door for him.

Carol leaned in to listen to the fascinating sounds of his shift, the quick snapping of bones and slick noises of morphing flesh. Daryl didn’t come out right away, not for several minutes actually. She didn’t let herself get too concerned yet, he was probably self conscious of his scars, or wanted to check out the burns himself.

Finally the door opened and Daryl shuffled out, hunched over, obviously trying to make himself disappear.

The scars that they had all seen wrapped around his wolf skin were even starker now, with no fur to cover them on his smaller form. Most were clearly made by claws, tearing across his back and abdomen, but there were a few more deliberate that looked far more ‘man made’.

She didn’t want him to catch her staring though, so she quickly made to look for the first aid kit, wanting to patch him up as soon as possible.

It was under Andrea’s chair, so the blank women wordless bent over and passed it to her, not blinking.

“I can do it myself.” Daryl snapped when she approached him, edging away from her.

“You can’t reach that far.”

He sniffed, nose scrunching up in annoyance, finally not flinching away from her when she neared.

There wasn’t much in the kit for burns, but there was a little bottle of aloe vera gel and some sterile bandages.

Carol grabbed some of the cotton balls and a bottle of water, soaking them and then gently dabbing the burns. Daryl hissed quietly under his breathe, rolling his shoulder. The burns didn’t look too bad, most of them were just first degree but the problem was the extensiveness of the damage. Most of his skin was puckered and blistered red, the damaged not sever but covering a lot of area. 

After cleaning them off, she carefully spread some of the aloe vera over the injuries, making sure she didn’t miss any of them. Carol consciously kept away from his scars, avoiding touching them, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

Daryl was getting fidgety from sitting still for so long, picking at the stray threads on the oversized pants.

Finally she pulled out some of the gauze, covering the burns as best she could, even if it was a kind of awkward place for a bandage. She used medical tape to secure it, checking so it wouldn’t get in the way of his shoulder blades.

“Make sure you don’t shift, or I’ll have to redo this all over again.” Carol told him, letting Glenn hand him a shirt.

“How long?” He grunted, not impressed with the idea.

“Well, we’ll have to change the bandages a few times, so you can take some time to shift then.” She replied, packing her supplies away. “Be careful though, try to take it easy for a little while.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling the shirt over his head with a wince. Suddenly the brakes had them both flying backwards, almost losing their balance.

“What’s going on?” Glenn called, walking over to the front of the Winnebago, then stumbled, falling against the side of the RV as something shook the entire vehicle, a great wrenching sound tearing through the air.

“I rear ended Rick!” Dale shouted, “And I think T-Dog rear ended _us_!”

“With _my_ truck!” Daryl hissed, running to the door, flinging it open, “Ay! What the fuck?”

Carol followed him out, assessing the damage, fearful for her daughter. Relief flooded her as the Grimes’ family got out of the car, Sophia in tow.

“Something’s wrong with the car!” Rick told them, “The engine must have given out or something…”

“Shit like that doesn’t just happen.” Shane snapped, slamming the door of his truck.

“I saw that happen to someone on the highway once.” Lori said, “His engine just… gave out.”

T-Dog was shakily climbing out of Daryl’s totalled truck, eyes wide, “Sorry dude, I didn’t- didn’t have time to react.”

The wolf just shook his head, rubbing his temples, “S’fine.”

“We’re down two vehicles then, because there is no way Daryl’s truck is gonna start again.” Shane growled, “I don’t even know if the RV made it, after that bad of a crash.”

“This ol’ girl can take anything.” Dale replied, “She’s still running.”

“We’re still short on transportation…” Rick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I mean, we can probably fit everyone, it’s just gonna get a bit crowded.”

“I can ride Merle’s bike.” The werewolf pointed out, “And T-Dog can jus’ ride with Shane again. Cram the rest of y’all into the RV.”

Carol imagined sitting in that crowded vehicle, having to sit between Lori and Andrea, the overwhelming awkward silence spilling around them as Rick and Glenn avoided each others eyes…

The kids would have fun though, she didn’t even want to think of the mischief those two would be getting up to.

 

* * *

 

“How’re your shoulders anyway, Daryl?” Rick asked, eyeing the bandage peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

Daryl resisted the urge to shrug, knowing the pain would be obvious on his face as he pulled on his burns. “S’ fine. No big deal.” Daryl grunted, avoiding his eyes. “We should get goin’.”

“Hate to admit it, but I agree with the mutt. That crash will have attracted walkers.” Shane added, heading back to his truck, “C’mon T. It’ll be hell getting out of here with those two vehicles sitting in the way.”

“I’ll help you get your bike out.” Rick offered, following Daryl to his smashed up truck, “You sure you’re fit to ride?”

“I’ll be fine.”

The two climbed up on to the back of the pickup, maneuvering the motorcycle down to the ground. The familiar growl when he turned it on send waves of nostalgia throughout out him, as well as a heavy sense of grief. All he could think about was Merle teaching him to ride, laughing his ass off when Daryl lost control and panicked, instinctively shifting while still on the bike and being flung off because obviously wolves cannot operate a motorbike.

The Grimes' and the Paletiers filed into the RV, along with Andrea and Glenn. He imagined how tightly packed it would be, how tense the silence. The suicidal bitter woman sitting next to the tightly wound mother and her boy, the abused widow and her quiet pup huddled beside the young pizza delivery boy, who awkwardly sat next to the strong unwavering alpha. No air, no space, just body heat and tangible emotions.

Daryl grinned, relieved to be on his own, nothing but him and the wind, and the purr of his bike.

The RV started off down the road, and Daryl followed. He could hear Shane pull the truck up behind him, and they continued their journey. They had decided to head for Fort Benning, like Shane had wanted from the start. Daryl had almost been able to smell the smugness on the man, making him want to slash at that smirking face.

Fucking Shane. Shane was a rogue, a danger. He wasn’t a part of the pack - _er, group_ \- and was too rash and full of himself to safely lead them.

Daryl knew that Shane and Rick would clash eventually, there could only be one alpha.

At that thought he shuddered, praying that Rick would have the strength of will to defend his position as leader. Compassion and understanding were good traits, but he could not let them get in the way of maintaining his power and putting Shane in his place.

If Shane overcame Rick, and took his place at the head of the group, Daryl didn’t think he could stay. His instincts would be to obey the cruel, haughty man, and to do so would disgust him, and probably damage him beyond repair. It would be dangerous to stay.

They drove steadily on, and as the day aged and darkened into a steadily blackening sky, Dale honked the Winnebago, signalling them to stop.

Daryl pulled up beside them, killing the engine. “You sure this is a good spot?” He asked as Rick poked his head out the door.

“Good a place as any.” He replied, looking back inside the RV.

Shane parked the truck and hopped out, “We campin’ out here? We oughta sleep in our vehicles, no bother trying to set up tents. It’ll be safer.”

Daryl bristled, glancing at him.

Rick nodded, looking to Dale as he climbed out, “That sounds good. It’s pretty packed in there, but I’m sure we’ll manage. We’ll need people on watch though.”

“I can take first watch.” Daryl offered, “There aint nowheres for me to sleep anyway.”

Dale nodded, “Well, when someone comes to take your place there’ll be a spot open for you.”

His first instinct was to shift, so he would be able to keep a better lookout as a wolf, but then he remembered his bandaged shoulders and internally groaned. So instead he accepted the binoculars from Dale and climbed up the ladder of the Winnebago to the roof.

There were little engravings of birds in flight on each side of the binos, they were probably used for bird watching at some point. They were worn and easy to hold, and smelled of dust and warmth when he held them close to his face, gazing through them out to the side of the road.

Daryl wondered if they were Dale’s from before the turn, if they were his or his wife’s, if he used them often or if they spent most of their life in storage. He wondered if they were loved, or if they only became useful after the world ended.

Sitting out in the brisk night air, his mind pondered little things like that, trivial things that he didn’t particularly care about. His mind was restless.

A few minutes later he heard the sounds of someone climbing up the ladder, Carol’s lavender scent drifting faintly over. The timid woman poked her head up, glancing at him.

“I thought you could use some company… I can’t sleep.”

Daryl shrugged, turning away from here. He heard her clamber up onto the roof and sensed her nervously shuffling around, like she wasn’t sure what to do.

Finally she pulled up a chair, sitting down beside him, “How are your shoulders?”

“Fine.”

She nodded, glancing up through her eyelashes. He wasn’t sure if she was scared of him, there was definitely tension wafting off of her and she displayed classic omega characteristics- it was weird to be on the receiving end of submissive behaviour for once, it made him a little uncomfortable. Carol was definitely a creature of strength, despite the way she acted. Those behaviours did not come from a predisposition for submission, they were learnt. Nature vs nurture… with Daryl submission came both from nature and nurture, but with Carol, he knew it was purely the later. Ed had not let her display her true self, forcing her into an uncomfortable role she didn’t belong in.

“This might not be my place to ask, but do you have another name?” Her words startled him out of his thoughts, making him jerk his chin up.

He stared at her a moment, making her fidget.

“I do.”

She stared at him expectantly, blinking.

Finally Daryl sighed, coughing out, “Tsel’ Ubiystva. That was my birth name.”

“It’s beautiful.” Carol smiled, but he quickly shook his head, cutting her off.

“It means ‘murder target’, or ‘reason to kill’.”

She fell silent, horror drifting across her delicate features, “Why would you be named that?”

“I’m jus’ a failed abortion to my father.”

He didn’t want to talk about it anymore, didn’t want to talk about the hatred in his father's eyes, or the pain in that man's wife’s, or the grave in place of his birth mother. Didn’t want to think about the fact he never knew his mother, just knew that all she wanted was take him away and have him never have to know his father, but instead his father was all he’d ever known. Or the fact that his father’s wife pitied Daryl, even loved him like a son, and yet still let herself burn.

“My home life was less than ideal.” Daryl finally said into the silence.

“Did you go by that name for very long?”

He paused, “My - my father’s wife called me Tsvetok Mal’chik, much nicer name, but by th’ time I was sixteen I was already goin’ by Daryl. Those names don’t mean nothing to me anymore.”

She nodded, “I like the name Daryl.”

“Me too.”

The silence was peaceful enough after that, and he was loath to admit it but her presence was comforting. She reminded him a bit of one of Merle’s old girlfriends, Sandra, a feisty but motherly woman who definitely didn’t belong with a shit stain like his brother.

Eventually Carol started snoring, body relaxing into the chair, head lolled onto her shoulder. Daryl let her be, but when someone took over the watch he would wake her up. The chair was probably pretty uncomfortable.

He was honoured though, that she felt safe enough to fall asleep. Of course humans weren’t as wary as wolves were, but it was still the apocalypse, Daryl was still a creature that could tear someone’s throat out, and Carol was still a woman recovering from an abusive marriage. And yet she fell asleep with her throat hanging out and a smile on her lips.

 _They aren’t scared of you._ He thought. _Maybe they should be._

The moon was high and he could feel its energy coursing through him, pushing his blood like tidal waves and stirring his soul. It was only half full, but he could still feel it’s waxing power, slowly showing more of it’s face to him. The moon, the mother.

He felt himself relax, tilting his face to catch the moonlight. This time, he let himself listen to her song, the music that the human's couldn't hear, the gentle humming of the mother moon to her children.

Hours passed, air thickening with moisture, sky an unchanging black. Since the world ended, the nights seemed to be growing darker each time. No city lights to warm up the sky, just darkness, just as Daryl liked it. It was one of the things he hated the most about living in Atlanta, the damn lights. He was used to the forest, so when he ended up in the city, the lights and noise drove him insane.

He didn’t want to think of the city either though.

He was running out of safe things to think about.

Soon, the sounds of someone climbing the ladder met his ears. He could smell Glenn before he saw him, the kid carefully lifting himself onto the roof.

“I’m your relief.” He said, glancing at Carol.

Daryl nodded, and nudged the woman gently, “Carol, Carol wake up.”

She blinked her eyes open, jumping slightly, “Ah, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“S’ok. You should be gettin’ t’ bed though.”

She nodded, and stiffly rose, follow him to the ladder, her tiny footsteps tapping behind him.

Quickly, he climbed down halfway then jumped to the ground, rolling his shoulders as they pinched from the force. The door of the RV was open, so he silently climbed in, avoiding stepping on a sleeping Andrea. There was a space open near the far corner where Glenn must have been, so he crept over.

Carol was curling up next to Sophia, wrapping her long arms around her girl.

He couldn’t sleep at first, so he sat in the corner, knees drawn up to his chin. He thought about his mother, about his father, about Merle and Merl's own mother, about their forest home, and the city where he had none.

He thought about things he wasn’t allowed to think about, and started to cry.

It was slow at first, just a prickling in his eyes, than the moisture built up and panic shuddered through him, but he just let the drops fall.

This was the biggest rule he was breaking-- crying. Never, not ever. But at that moment he couldn’t muster up the strength to care, everyone was asleep anyway. It was risky, but the world had ended, every day was a risk. He could indulge in this one for once.

He clamped his mouth shut tight and squinted his eyes, letting the human in him sob, feeling his mother’s blood course through his veins. It itched. His eyes itched, his veins itched.

Daryl was tired and needed this, this one thing. He needed to let his walls down for just a few moments. His body and mind were exhausted, and his faith was draining.

_“No crying Tsvetok, shh, no crying. Your brother doesn’t cry, does he? No. You have to focus on the wolf in you, darling. The human parts are dangerous, they’ll get you hurt. The werewolf will keep you safe though. That’s what you are, Tsvetok, a werewolf. In your heart. So wipe away those tears.”_

_Fucking bitch didn’t know a damn thing._ Daryl thought bitterly. She thought love could cure him of his human blood, like if she pretended he was her son his true parentage would be erased. He wondered if she pitied his mother, when she learned what her husband had done, and at the time was still doing-- if she hated him.

“No more fuckin’ piss baby shit.” He growled to himself, wiping his eyes. Going on about sad things of the past would help him none, there was no point.

At the sound, Rick snorted in his sleep, disturbed by Daryl’s utterance. The man rolled over, eyes still shut. The wolf wondered if the man was dreaming of anything.

He hoped they were good dreams.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, been trying hard not to fail my psychology course.  
> Let's be honest, this chapter is mostly an angst pile.


	6. blink and bring back.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: misogynistic slur, heavy dominance/submission tones, allusions to threatened rape.

**blink and bring back. c _hapter six._**

 

“Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises .  
We're pretty sure they're all wrong” - No Children by the Mountain Goats

Sophia was gone.  
Glenn felt like someone has forcibly sucked the air out of his lungs.

 

* * *

  

Glenn watched Carol sob against the railing, wide eyes staring out into the trees as though her daughter would appear at any second. Her entire body was shaking, mad tremors running down her spine. She looked like Daryl did before shapeshifting, body shivering with bones that wanted to break and skin that wanted to change.

“We’ll find her, I promise.” Rick was saying, and at that moment a small flicker of anger came to life inside Glenn. The cop shouldn’t make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep. Not to a mother whose heart was clinging to those words like a lifeline.

“We’ll les’ go out and look for her!” Daryl snarled, pacing, “All this sittin’ around will do nothing.”

“It’s getting dark, man. It’ll be dangerous.” T-Dog rasped.

He bared his teeth, “I’ll shift, I don’t need no light. I’m the best tracker you’ll ever hope t’ have.”

“Daryl wait--” Rick started, but the redneck was already heading to the woods, unbuckling his pants. He started shifting as he worked off his shirt, bones twisting around and out of the fabric, the bandages peeling off his shoulders as his skin stretched and pulled.

Carol watch him go, eyes now imitating Andrea’s - lifeless.

“Shit.” Shane growled, glancing to Rick, “Are we just gonna let him go?”

“There’s nothing we can do. We’ll set up for the night and head out in the morning.” Rick muttered, rubbing his eyes, “Hopefully he’ll be back by then, maybe with a trail for us to help him track.”

Glenn bit his lip, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. It wasn’t even that cold out. He shivered.

It had happened so fast, the walkers, Sophia, everything. It was like they’d blinked and everything had fallen apart. It was like the turn all over, one minute you're complaining about gas prices and then the next, your roommate was grappling to rip into your face with his own teeth. The group had been doing so well, making good ground with no incidents, but they'd let their guard down and now they were paying dearly for it.

Glenn hadn’t believed it when Rick showed them the spot where Sophia was supposed to have been waiting, couldn’t believe the empty space in the world that didn’t have her in it. How could she have run off, where would she have gone?

The group’s greatest treasure was the kids.

How could they have let one of them slip away so easily?

Shane grumpily climbed into his truck, mumbling something under his breath that sounded like expletives. T-Dog hesitated in following him, glancing at Rick, “You really think Daryl’s gonna be ok out there?”

“He’s a wolf, he can handle it.” Dale replied.

T-Dog frowned, then turned to Carol, “We’ll find your girl, don’t worry. D’s got the best nose out of anyone.”

She nodded, wiping her eyes, still staring out into the woods.

Dale helped Andrea into the RV, followed by Lori and Carl. T-Dog sat with the anguished mother, everyone knowing she wouldn’t want to tear her eyes away from the forest just yet.

Despite the chill in the air, Glenn remained outside too. He was worried about Carol, Daryl, and Sophia. There was no way he would be getting to sleep that night, so he plunked himself down beside Daryl’s bike, and aimlessly picked up the wolf's cross bow and pulled the bolts out, cleaning them like he’d cleaned them back at the camp.

After he finished, he took the rag and started wiping down the bow itself, just like he’d seen Daryl do it. Rubbing all the dirt out of the nooks and crannies. It was both meditative and calming, like he was cleaning out all the muck from himself at the same time. Sympathetic cleansing.

Rick watched him, eyes not really seeing. Glenn knew the man was exhausted, he couldn’t imagine what it was like taking responsibility for a whole group of people when the entire world was trying to kill them. He felt a bit bad for being angry at him earlier, it couldn't be easy. The man was doing his best in an impossible situation.

He set the bow down, and looked towards Carol and T-Dog. She had her head resting on his shoulder, her body still shaking like she was crying, but her eyes looked dry. Dull. Dead. Like they'd maybe shrivelled up inside a corpse. 

Glenn gritted his teeth, and looked down to the pavement. He shuddered.

Eventually his body started to feel weirdly heavy, like his limbs were made of lead. The next thing he knew, he was blinking his eyes open, back pressed up against the side of Daryl’s bike, making it strain against the kickstand, wondering how long he’d been sleeping.

Carol was still and limp against T-Dog, eyes shut and chest rising and falling evenly. Her pillow was looking onwards into the night, face blank or maybe stoic. Rick was no where to be seen, but after a few minutes Glenn spotted him on top of the RV, on watch.

Slowly he sat up straighter, back cracking. The pavement was cold on his behind, so he pulled his knees underneath him and curled up a little.

A buzz of anxiety shivered through him, putting him on edge. Something felt wrong.

There was a cracking in the woods, making him flinch. Something was moving fast, dangerously fast. T-Dog shot up, making Carol wake up with a noise of surprise.

“Rick!” He shouted in warning.

A bundle of fur barreled out, Daryl leaping over the guard railing, a barking snarl ripping from his throat. Glenn stepped back in shock as the wolf immediately began to shift, turning away before his form began to shrink and turn to bare skin.

“Dangennmmgg-er- peoplergg comin’- wolf- smell them-” Daryl was saying even while he was halfway through the transformation, voice short and garbled with a half formed human voice box.

“Put yer damn clothes on, boy!” T-Dog yelled, voice high pitched.

Glenn heard Daryl snap his teeth, and as he turned to see what was going on, Daryl was finally pulling his pants on.

“I had Sophia’s trail, but I caught the scent of a group headin’ your way. They have a wolf with ‘em... male, alpha, leaving his scent all over the damn place. Think they’re dangerous.” Daryl was saying breathlessly. “They’ll be here any second now, they know where we are, don’t think they’re gonna sneak up on us. They know I’m here, the alpha woulda’ smelled me.”

Rick was walking towards them, catching the end of his report. “What was that? A group?”

“Headin’ our way. With a wolf. My gut tells me this aint gonna be pretty.” Daryl replied, rolling his shoudlers, “Shouldn’t ‘ave shifted back if this is gonna come to a fight, but I had to tell you.”

Rick nodded, pulling his gun from his holster. He walked over and pounded on the door of Shane’s truck, “Wake up, brother. We’ve got trouble.”

There was a crackling in the nearby brush and Daryl spun around, growling dangerously. Five men were emerging from the trees, a little ways off from where he himself had come out from.

The man heading the group was grinning, sharp canine’s glinting. He had wild eyes and shaggy blond hair, unkempt and uncut. Everything about him screamed wolf, feral and deadly.

Glenn watched Daryl step forward, cutting the men off, low guttural sounds crawling out of his throat. Shane handed Glenn a gun, which he took gratefully and clutched to his chest, worry and fear spinning around in his brain giving him vertigo.

The men behind the blond werewolf all looked like they’d be good friends with Merle, questionable tattoos on their rough and dirty skin, smirks on their lips. They probably had pockmarks on their arms and slurs waiting on their tongues.

“To whom do I owe the pleasure?” Daryl snapped, enunciating the words sharply and clearly. _Fucking badass,_  Glenn thought proudly.

“I’m Hathorne. You smell like a bitch, son.” The wolf stepped forward, inhaling dramatically. “I can almost taste the estrogen on ya.”

“Don’t come any further. State yer business.”

Glenn had never seen two werewolves come head to head before, he'd watched Daryl and Merle interact but this was much different. Daryl and Merle were like dogs who'd grown up together, and this scene playing out before him was two dangerous wild animals squaring off over territory, reading to fight to the bloody death to protect what's theirs and lay claim to what they feel they're owed. 

Hawthorne kept walking, until he was almost toe to toe with Daryl, “My boys here are hungry. Haven’t had a bite to eat in ages. Lookin’ for some dinner.” His flashing gold eyes flicked to Carol, a leer curling his chapped lips.

Daryl snarled, puffing out his chest, “Stay the fuck away, man, these people are mine.”

“Yours, huh? You their big tough alpha? You couldn’t fool anyone, kid.” Hawthorne bared his teeth, “Show me your neck.”

He flinched as though struck, shrinking back a little, but he stood his ground. “Fuck off.”

“Little doggy thinks he can stand up to an alpha. I can smell the submission on you.”

“I think it’s time for you to go, Hawthorne. Don’t make this a problem.” Rick called over, hands tightening on his gun.

“Stay out of this, one-skin. We’ll get to you in a second.” Hawthorne’s eyes didn’t leave Daryl’s, “C’mon, bare your neck. Don’t make me order you again.”

Glenn could see the pressure Hawthorne’s dominance was putting on Daryl, but their friend wasn’t backing down.

Daryl spat on his shoe, “I’m not yer bitch, I aint showin’.”

“You have the scars of a fighter, but you’ve got the body language of an omega dog.” Hawthorn trailed one finger over the marred side of Daryl’s face, tracing the scars that pulled at his cheek. To his credit, Daryl didn’t move, but Glenn could see his jaw clenching.

“Bare your neck!” The other wolf finally shouted, voice the loudest it had ever gotten, it even made Rick flinch back.

Daryl’s head tilted instinctively, chin lifting, growling softly at his bodies betrayal. Hawthorne grinned at the exposed skin, stepping forward to breath in deeply, nose inches away from just below Daryl’s ear.

Anger coursed through Glenn’s body, but froze as Hawthorne spoke up again.

“Kill the men, tie up the woman, keep my little bitch here alive.”

Rick didn’t give them a second to react to their bosses orders, jumping up and firing shots off in quick progression. Glenn took aim too, willing Daryl to get the fuck out of the way. He managed to take down one of the men, but two others had already gotten out their guns and were returning fire.

Glenn ducked behind the open truck door, narrowly avoiding a bullet that probably would have blow his brains all over Shane’s shiny blue pickup.

Taking a moment to catch his breath and reload, he looked around. Daryl had tackled Hawthorne, but Glenn knew the fight was unfair. The alpha had power over Daryl that outweighed any physical advantages.

Shane managed to clip one of the men in the arm, but they were still outnumbered, and Hawthorne looked like he was about to shift. They were royally fucked, Daryl had been shifting too often lately, the chances he’d be able to physically handle another shift were astronomical. Even if he did manage it, it would be pointless considering Hawthorne's sheer mass as he pinned the smaller werewolf down, and the overwhelming psychological power the alpha had. 

Blood was flying, and Hawthorne collapsed with the grace and dignity of an overstuffed rag doll,  and Shane was hooting with wild abandon.

“Told you that silver bullet would come in handy.” The man was telling Rick, holding his pistol.

The last two men were taking cover in the woods, still firing off shots as they went. Glenn wasn’t sure if they were retreating or merely avoiding the flying bullets, but soon enough the gunfire dwindled down and they were no where to be seen.

 _They talked tough and dangerous, but they’ve got nothing on our pure desperation._ Glenn thought manically, body taught with adrenaline.  

Lori was holding Carl and crying, asking what was going on, was everyone alright? Rick assured her that everything was fine, as Glenn went over to help Daryl up.

Hawthorne’s body was slumped over him, his weight pinning him down, half shifted into wolf form. With Glenn’s help, they pushed it off and they stood up together, both shaking a little bit. He'd always thought Daryl's wolf form was large, but compared to Hawthorn's bulk he was more like a Chihuahua to a Mastiff. 

Daryl stared down at the dead werewolf, eyes bright with anger, “Fucking mother fucker, thinks he owns me cus’ I’m not an alpha-” He slammed his heel down onto the already blown open skull, crushing bits of bone and brain matter into the grass, “Fucker thinks he can make me bare my neck like some bitch in heat! Like some dog waiting to get its neck torn out! Like some pathetic little-” He kept kicking the body, swearing and spitting.

Glenn took a step back, giving him his space.

T-Dog was at Carol’s side again, trying to calm her down. Her poor nerves were so frayed, Glenn wasn’t sure how she was still standing.

Dale was hovering in the background, staring out at the bloody scene before him. He met Glenn’s eyes, and started towards him. “Should someone try to calm him down?” He asked, gesturing to Daryl.

Glenn shook his head at Dale’s question, “Nah, he needs to let out some steam.”

“We need to get these bodies outa’ here soon though, all this blood is gonna attract walkers.” Shane strode forward, grasping Rick’s shoulder. The former sheriff nodded, glancing at T-Dog.

“We’ll put them in the back of the pickup and drive them up the road, dump them off somewhere.” T-Dog replied, rubbing Carol’s arm.

Rick shook his head, glancing at the wound on T-Dog's arm from earlier that day, “Not you, you’re still hurt. Can’t have you doing too much heavy work.” 

“What about Sophia?” Carol whispered, arms wrapped around her chest.

“We’ll get all this done quick, then at dawn we’ll go looking for Sophia. Daryl, you said you found her trail?”

Daryl had stopped brutalizing Hawthorne’s corpse, was now sulking in the background. He turned at the sound of his name, chest heaving. He took a moment to compose himself, then, “Yeah, I can take y’ to it.”

Carol nodded, a small brittle smile breaking across her face, “Thank you.”

The wolf shrugged, absent-mindedly wiping the splattered blood on his face, turning away, shoulders hunched.

T-Dog led the shaken woman over to Lori, whispering kind words to her, sitting down with them and Dale.

“Shane, pull your truck up. We’ll start hauling ‘em.” Rick ordered, turning to Glenn, “Go get Daryl calmed down. We might need more manpower.”

“I’ll help haul.” Andrea spoke up, shouldering her way into their conversation. She stood with her chin oddly high, a posture they hadn’t seen from her in awhile.

Rick processed her, looking her over, “Alright.”

Glenn watch the semi-silent transaction, knowing there was a lot going on that was nonverbal. Andrea had been out of action for quite awhile now, barely a shell of the person she used to be. It was relieving to see her stand tall for once, rather than hunched with those dead eyes she'd shared with Carol. They'd both now lost a dear loved one, he hoped that this was a sign that Carol too could sand up once again in the future. 

The pickup truck pulled up, getting as close to the ditch as possible. The bodies were strewn about from the entrance to the forest right up to where Hawthorn lay by the edge of the ditch. Daryl was pulling at the werewolf’s shoulder, hauling the large creature up and onto his back.

Glenn moved to help him, but Daryl just shook his head, carefully taking a few steps forward. After testing his balance, he started making his way up to the truck, trembling from the exertion it took to move the body.

The others got to work hauling the rest of the bodies-- the big difference between killing walkers and killing living people was the amount of blood. Of course there was also the moral battle and guilt over taking a life, but also the fucking blood just got everywhere. Walker’s didn’t really bleed much, what with their debatably nonexistent circulatory system and sketchy internal workings, it was easy to forget just now much blood a human body contained until it was leaking out all over the green grass.

Glenn stepped back as they threw the last body up onto the truck, wiping his wet, stained hands. 

Daryl leaned against the side of the RV, rubbing his neck, “It’s almost mornin’, might as well set off soon. Who’s comin’?”

“Shane and I will come with.” Rick replied, glancing at his partner, “The trail should still be fresh?”

Daryl nodded, “Should be, yeah.”

Carl jumped up from where he sat with his mother, “I wanna come too!”

Rick shook his head, “Nah, sorry son. This is grown up stuff.”

“Sophia’s my friend, I should help look for her. You gotta let me!” Carl looked from his father to his mother, “Please?”

Lori bit her lip, doe eyes flicking to Rick, “It ain’t my call.”

“I can come with to help keep an eye on him…” Glenn spoke up, shuffling his feet, “So you don’t have to worry about him wandering off.”

“Well hell, might as well make a fuckin’ day trip outa’ it and have everyone come along.” Daryl spat, throwing up his hands.

“It would be better to go in a bigger group.” Dale muttered, shaking his head, “Last thing we need is people getting lost.”

Rick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “T-Dog and Dale will stay behind, keep on eye on things just in case Sophia makes her way back. The rest of us will head out. The more of us, the better a chance we have of finding her.”

“An’ more people to get in my way.” Daryl grumbled, hand still at his neck, “I’m jus’ sayin’, it’ll be easier with only a few of us.”

Rick ignored him, walking over to Glenn, “Round everyone up, I’ll go drive the truck down the road. Shane, come with to help drop the bodies off.”

Daryl snorted, turning away. Glenn watched him stalk, but started to follow him. “Are you going to shift when we go looking for the trail? Because it’ll be hard for you to shift back after, you’ve been going back and forth too often.”

The wolf glared at him, “S’ no big deal.”

“You can’t keep just going back and forth like that. You need more periods of rest, you aren’t supposed to keep switching skins like that so many times a day.” He felt like a mother hen, but he knew the importance of keeping Daryl safe and healthy. He was their ticket in this hell hole, their one advantage. "You gotta be careful."

“Fuck off, I ain’t got the luxury of bein’ careful.”

Glenn clenched his jaw, then looked around, knowing the conversation they needed to have didn’t suit their current company.

It was one they needed to have though, they couldn’t risk Daryl running himself into the ground. He pushed himself too hard, not mindful enough of his physical limitations. It wasn’t a matter of pride or ego, it was a matter of survival.

Glenn hesitated, then finally grabbed onto Daryl’s shirt and gestured over to the RV with his chin, wordlessly signalling for him to follow.

Reluctantly, the taller man trailed after some time, both heading further away from the group. Glenn didn't want Daryl to feel forced or cornered, but this was something he had to do. It was his duty.

He whispered low and careful, “Daryl, you have to be more careful about your shifting.”

“I already told ya’, it don’t matter. I gotta do what I gotta do.”

“-but you’re a mischling. It’s harder for you, and more dangerous.”

The other froze, eyes wide and disbelieving, “What the fuck are you talkin’ about. I aint no misch.” Daryl’s whole body was on the defence, warily backing up a few unconscious footsteps.

“I’ve known since you and Merle first met up with our group.” Glenn replied, raising his hands when Daryl growled threateningly, eyes narrowing, “It’s your eyes, they switch back and forth even when you're in your wolf skin. It’s a pretty rare genetic defect, but only people like you get it. Don’t worry, I haven’t _told_ anyone for christ sake.”

“Fuck you." Daryl bit out, then snorted, "How d'ya know so much?"

“I did a research paper in high school. Got full marks on it.” Glenn shrugged. Everyone knew he was bad at keeping secrets, but when someone’s life was on the line, especially someone like Daryl’s, that was a different matter.

Daryl was staring at him, face openly wary, and a little bit confused, “Why haven’t you told anyone? Most people woulda’ had me shot on the spot.”

“Why? It’s dumb, it’s not your fault you were born that way. There’s nothing inherently bad about you for being a half blood.”

“I’m a product of beastiality, you dumb fuck.” Daryl scoffed.

Glenn sighed, rolling his eyes, “That’s bullshit. Werewolves aren't mindless beasts. They can consent just as well as humans can, and obviously the offspring aren't  _always_  complete genetic fuck ups, since you seem pretty healthy. Like, consenting adults can do what they want.”

Daryl flinched, eyes flickering shut. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ preach to me.” He turned away and stalked off, fists in his pockets.

Glenn watched him go, feeling something hard in his gut. He didn’t have time to dwell on it now though, he had a job to do. It would take awhile for Daryl to get over knowing that Glenn was aware of his secret, but necessity would probably speed up the process. He couldn’t afford to sulk for long, and Glenn couldn’t afford to spend too much time worrying about it.

Within minutes he had everyone crowded around the RV, waiting for Rick to come back.

The young man turned his gaze to the forest, where Sophia had disappeared and where blood stained the grass. A chill ran down his spine, watching the shadows twitch and shiver as the breeze rustled branches and leaves. The forest seemed alive and terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Just because we're in someone's POV doesn't mean we get a full insight on their mind. We get to experience the world through their eyes, not wander around through their mind and memories at our leisure. This applies to the revelations of Daryl's heritage and Glenn's knowledge.


	7. it's not an implosion.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: canon discussions of suicide

**it's not an implosion. _chapter seven._**  

 _“Run boy run! This world is not made for you.  
Run boy run, they’re trying to catch you.   
Run boy run! Running is a victory.   
Run boy run!_ _” -_ Run Boy Run by Woodkid

 

Daryl, for once in his life, was hating the feeling of the earth beneath his feet. It was the same ground, but now, it felt traitorous, like he couldn’t trust it. After the forest had stolen Sophia, he wasn’t sure _what_ he could trust. He was a creature of nature, he belonged in these woods, but that little girl didn’t.  _Why did you take her? She doesn't belong to you._

The group was trailing along behind him, Dale and T-Dog excluded. Lori was walking to his heel, eyes wide as though searching hard, but Daryl knew she was just in a state of shock. Her scent had changed a bit, which was concerning. It was just a bit... off. He pushed it from his mind though, knowing he had to focus all his resources on the task at hand. She was distracting though. 

Forest seeming to be closing in around him, he choked back his breath. Now was not the time to feel suffocated, especially not in the wilderness.  _This is where I belong, why do I feel so trapped._

All staring at him expectantly as he led them. They were looking for a miracle.

Daryl hated breaking hearts. He may be the patron saint of rabid dogs and Appalachian fools, but he'd cheated to get his title, because he could perform no miracles.

“The trail breaks off here, her scent goes one way, cuts off suddenly, then is back here again then cuts off again.”

Rick looked confused, “Pardon?”

Daryl gritted his teeth and explained, “For whatever reason, her scent is broken.”

“So we split up?” Shane asked, looking to Rick. “You and I take the left, Daryl takes the right?”

“It seems like our best bet.”

They didn’t factor Carl into the equation. Daryl was coming to realize that maybe if the group worried less about direction and more about their youngest, they’d have a far better success rate.

Daryl had heard the gunshot from halfway across the forest and somehow knew exactly what it meant.

 

* * *

 

They were losing people fast, one by one. Daryl could feel doom quickly approaching them, as their group grew smaller and smaller. Sophia was missing, Carl was on his deathbed, shot like a deer _instead_ of the deer, T-Dog's infection was draining him, and Rick seemed on the brink of destruction. Whatever stray hope Daryl had felt was long gone now.

By the time he rode up with T-Dog, Glenn, and Dale, that dumb fuck Shane had already run off on a suicide mission and he knew, oh god he knew, that it was surely over. Dropping like flies, they were. One by one. 

Daryl stood by Lori, staring at the pale child. Carl had always been a strong boy, the wolf had seen him and his mother go through the grief of losing Rick. The kid was tough but now he looked like a glass doll. That bullet had ripped that strength right out of him and now he was just the same sack of meat as the rest of them, susceptible to death. There was no child-like immortality anymore. 

Lori look up at him, eyes bright. She opened her mouth as though to say something, but it closed quickly. He hated it when she did that, he knew she had things to say but too often she censored herself as though her thoughts and opinions didn't matter. She wasn't just some damn housewife, or even just a mother. She was a goddamned human and right now... right at that moment Daryl was valuing humans more than even as they slowly died off around him.

"He'll be alright." He lied to her, just hoping she'd snap and tell him the truth she knew in her heart, her baby would probably die. 

"Of course." She smiled brokenly, eyes unnaturally wide.

Daryl felt like screaming, he wanted to yell and say ' _Your fucking child is dying. Stop lying for two goddamn minutes and freak out like a normal person. You're allowed to be weak! Tell me off for patronizing you! Punch me, sob, something! You don't have to be strong for Rick.'_ Instead he turned and walked out, knees cracking and heart constricting. 

He hated feeling useless. It was worse than any feeling. It made him want to claw off his skin. To keep himself busy, he'd spend hours prowling the forest, hoping to catch Sophia's scent again. It was all he could do while the rest of the group slowly disintegrated. As night slowly enveloped them, Shane and Otis still out, he lay on the floor of the RV and listened to Carol cry. 

He was useless. Couldn't even find one little girl. He was a fucking  _werewolf_ for christ sake. Merle probably could have tracked her down within the hour, none the worse for wear. But Merle wasn't there, he was dead and gone and Daryl was all that was left. . 

He could faintly smell the scent of walkers, a lot of them. The scent was peculiar though, he couldn't describe it. It didn't seem like they were very close, but he didn't trust it nonetheless. He might as well check it out, and do another round of searching for the little girl while he was at it. 

Carol stifled her sobs as he suddenly jerked up to his feet and started walking to the door, "Where are you going?"

"Gonna go look some more." It was all he could do at that point.

He didn't trust that farm, didn't trust the idea of people willing to help them. His only experience with farmers consisted of redneck racists who hated wolves almost as much as they hated black people. To him, being a farmer meant you were trash, but to be fair his experiences were limited considering his upbringing. The place made him uneasy though, put him off. He wanted to spend as little time there as possible.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow and started at the sight of Andrea, sitting at the table taking apart his gun. She didn't seem to notice him at first, quickly putting the pieces back together. Nimble fingers pushed the various pieces back in place, with various 'clicks' and 'clacks' as the metal slid together. She'd been getting better at that lately, practicing assembling the guns like if she succeeded, she'd get insight on how to put  _herself_ back together. It was a foolish, naive idea, but at least she was keeping busy.

She'd seemed more ghostly lately, since Carl was shot. Her brief dalliance with strength seemed to have flickered out once more. 

"I'll go with you." She stated quietly when he reached down to grab his now assembled weapon.

He scoffed, knowing she would help none, but he couldn't risk shifting again at any rate and an extra pair of eyes would't hurt at least. "Just keep it down and walk quietly."

He let her man the flashlight. He didn't need it anyway, eyes still retaining some of their night vision. As they tramped off into the woods, well, Andrea tramping, Daryl silently padding on the balls of his feet, they met the dark of the woods like old friends. 

The trees had never seemed menacing to Daryl before, but now he felt restless, wondering what Sophia was doing at that moment. The night was cold and dark, not a good environment for a child. Old friend, what have you done?

Andrea accidentally shone the light into his eyes, making him curse, snarling at her half heartedly.

"You remind me of Riddick." Her statement startled him.

Daryl glanced at her, "Huh?"

Andrea shrugged, "It's this dumb movie series. Your eyes glint like his though, Riddick was a human who could see in the dark and his eyes shone silver in the light. But your eyes go gold."

It was the most she'd said in days, so he didn't reply with anything scathing, "I've never heard of it." 

"It was a silly movie."

Daryl wondered why they didn't cast a real werewolf instead of giving humans all these ridiculous super powers. He never watched movies when he was a kid, they didn't have a tv in their house and once he moved out, he never really got an opportunity. He wanted to stop thinking about before the turn though, the last thing he needed was to deal with those emotions. 

They trekked through the woods, Daryl breathing deeply to try and pick up any scent his feeble nose could pick up. The continuous rustling of the brambles and brush made it difficult to hear much, it was so frustrating to try to track while in his human form. Everything was so weak, he was better than a true human, but to know his potential made it hard to force himself not to shift to wolf. 

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. 

"Do you think we'll find her?" 

Daryl shot Andrea a look at her question, he shrugged, "Don't matter what I think. 'Gonna try hard as I can. The kid's tough though, if anyone would survive it's Sophia." He could remember her, tiny next to her monster of a father, still able to laugh and smile.

"I don't think we will." She admitted quietly, and they fell into a definitively and absolutely uncomfortable silence. Daryl's fingers twitched. 

"One time I was lost in the woods as a kid. Was gone fer days." He spoke up, sensing Andrea's growing anxiety. "I was kind of hopeless back then, shit at tracking an' had awful night vision. I wiped my ass with poison ivy, itched for 'bout a week. Found my own way back home, no one had known I was gone." 

Andrea let out a shocked bout of laughter, which she quickly stifled, "Sorry, that's awful."

"Nah, it's pretty funny." He conceded, "I had the worst rash." 

She chuckled, wiping her eye.

In truth, the experience had been quite exhilarating. He had been at peace living in the woods, it was the best he'd felt all his life as a child. It was when he got home that the situation had gotten awful. Merle back from juvie, white nosed and rowdy. 

He touched his own eye, trailing one of the scars that pulled at the side of his face. 

Daryl was about to speak up again, when they were startled by the guttural sounds that made the wolf's hair stand on end. 

He motioned for her to stay quiet, heading towards the noise.

The smell hit him first, then he choked on laughter. The walker was strung up, dangling from the tree. It desperately struggled to get to them, only managing to swing back and forth like a morbid piñata. It wasn't the scent he'd caught back at the farm, though, there was something else out there. 

"' _Got bit. Fever hit. World gone to shit. Might as well quit.'_ " He read the note on the tree, "Dumb ass didn't know enough to shoot himself in the head."

He turned to leave, but Andrea stopped him, "Won't you kill him?"

"Fucker got what he wanted. He opted out, so he can stay strung up. Why waste an arrow." He snapped, eying her. He'd carried her out of an exploding building himself, he knew the thoughts that were running through her mind.

She paused, but he spoke up again, "Answer a question and I'll put it out of it's misery." He gestured to her, "Do you still wanna die?"

It took a few long moments for her to answer, moments that were filled with his memories from being a teenager. He wasn't a stranger to depression, he had his own battle scars in more ways than one. 

"I don't know if I have to live, want to live, or if it's just a habit at this point." She answered slowly. 

Daryl stared at her, then muttered, "Waste of an arrow." 

The corpse stopped moving as it's head was impaled by the speeding bolt, rotted mouth hanging slack.

 

* * *

  

Shane was back. And it was only Shane. The hunter with the rifle was dead, the man explained, he died with honour. 

Daryl scoffed, smelling the guilt on him, could see the way he held the gun that belonged to the man left behind. He wouldn't speak up though, wouldn't ask. At this point, it felt like nothing really mattered anymore. Shane was a murderer, so what? He knew Shane was the devil without needing the proof. He would take even the devil's help if it meant saving a child, which in this case, it did. 

He couldn't feel bad for Otis, a man he'd never met, but he'd be that much more wary of Shane. Now that he knew just what he was capable of. 

Daryl stalked off, letting the group fret over Carl's surgery and the funeral for Otis, needing some time alone. This group was toxic, slowly killing itself over time. He needed a breath of fresh air.

Glenn stood up from where he'd been picking rocks for the grave, and started trailing behind. Daryl bristled, sensing him follow, wishing for once someone in that goddamn group of one-skinners would leave him the fuck alone. 

He pretended not to notice him, shoulders aching from his burns and the stare Glenn was bearing him down with. Determined not to pay any attention to his shadow, Daryl pushed forward without looking back.

"Wait!" Glenn finally spoke up, jogging forward. The wolf inwardly cringed, eyebrows crunching up in annoyance. 

"Wha' do you want." He snapped.

"Just wanted to see how you were doing."

Daryl didn't grace him with a response. 

Glenn continued, "We haven't really spoken much, and you've been so busy with looking for Sophia and stuff and-" he stopped prattling and tucked his chin, then continued rambling, "-I'm just a bit worried about you, that's all. Rick's been too, even though he's been so busy worrying about Carl and stuff. We were talking earlier and he asked me to check up on you--" 

"I'm fine. Go away."

Glenn paused, "If it weren't for you, we'd all have been killed by that rogue group. I don't think anyone's taken the time to thank you."

Daryl didn't reply to the sudden statement.

"You helped Andrea perk up too, she told me about your walk and I think it's done her a lot of good. You've been really helpful with searching for Sophia, without you we'd never have a chance. You-"

Finally Daryl snapped and cut Glenn off, "What the fuck are you playing at?"

The younger man flinched, biting his lip, "I'm just trying to remind you of your  _worth_ , Daryl Dixon, ok? I know I'm just some stupid kid, and I don't know shit, but you're important to the group and you're important you me and Andrea and you're important to Rick and-"

The wolf sighed, rubbing his temples, "I really don't need your pep talk, alright? Save it for Miss Teen Angst and Officer Frayed Nerves." 

"I've been talking to Andrea and Rick tons. Unlike  _some_ people, they know that talking it out is good."

"What, so you're group therapist now?"

"Hell no, I can't keep secrets. But at least they don't shut others out."

' _Can't keep secrets, but you kept mine.'_

Daryl stared him down, body tensing. He was too tired to deal with this, "You've made your point, now go away." 

"Where are you going?"

The wolf didn't respond, just strutted off into the shadows of the forest without a glance back, knowing Glenn wasn't stupid enough to continue following.

He pulled off his shirt and slowly shifted, revelling in the feeling of letting go despite the discomfort of his transformation. It was agonizing to keep himself trapped in that tiny little man suit for so long, he needed to stretch his legs. 

Air ruffling his sleek russet fur, he shook off the old bandage from his shoulders and gave a throaty bark, clearing his throat from the human feeling in his throat that seemed to linger a few moments. It was hard to explain, but it was like his voice from his human body was still trapped inside until he let it out, like coughing up phlegm. 

 _Worth_. He though quietly, feeling subdued. It wasn't that Glenn had gotten to him, it just dredged up his feelings from his interactions with Lori. He didn't care what these stupid human's thought of him, right? _I don't want to feel useless._  Fuck that, he was a werewolf, these puny creatures didn't mean anything.  _I want to feel needed, I want to feel... apart of something._

They weren't his pack. He didn't have a pack-- he was alone, in the companionship of a bunch of stray humans. He didn't need a pack.

He thought about Rick, about his alpha voice and the way he made him bow. Carol, and her tender touches to his injuries. Sophia, and his desperation to find her. He thought about how strongly he felt, and and how many times he slipped up internally. How many time's had he referred to the children as 'pups'? To the group as a 'pack'?

Not that it mattered, everything was falling down around them. An epiphany didn't make much difference, it just meant that he had to distance himself from them more. He couldn't allow them to be his pack, not while they were on this downward spiral of destruction. He couldn't create those bonds only for them to be ripped from him at the last second. 

No, he would search for their little girl, make sure she was safe, then he would leave. 

_I've been lying to myself. I can make it just fine on my own, I've done it plenty of times before. I don't need them._

He thought of his life in the city, alone and tired, only his own internal monologue for company. That was no life. He'd prefer it to the fate that awaited him with those humans though, the agony of getting close only to lose them. It wasn't a matter of preference, it was a matter of necessity. 

Daryl sat back on his haunches, licking his muzzle. He would survive. It was the thing he did best, surviving. It came second nature, a skill he'd learnt over years of abuse and self loathing. He felt weary, like some sad old folk punk singer wailing over the sound of his broken banjo, crying about alcoholism and anarchy with no one to hear him-- but he would survive.  _  
_

At that moment, the group was probably having the funeral for Otis, not noticing his absence. He didn't want to be there to listen to Shane lie about what happened last night without flat out laughing in his face.

He shook himself, standing up. He didn't want to think anymore. He wanted to run, stretch his muscles, stop thinking, feel the breeze.

So he ran.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm plotting out how I'll deal with the season 2 arc, I don't want to bore anyone so I'm going to do some time jumps and canon-divergent plots.


	8. strength and family.

**strength and family. _chapter eight._**  

 

 _"We're all gonna die;_  
_This is true_  
_It's true for me and it's true for you_  
_But we could live a little longer_  
_if we put our minds to it._ "  
\- We're All Gonna Die by AJJ

Rick noticed immediately. It was like the air had transformed, grown thinner and saltier and harder to suck into his lungs because there wasn't enough of it-- the whole world seemed to change the second he realized what had happened. Like a static shock, jolting him awake and aware of his surroundings after being half asleep. 

He took a breath. His hands fluttered around Carl's head, brushing back his hair and checking his temperature. His son would make a full recovery, Mr. Greene had predicted. He still looked pale and clammy, but Rick's anxiety was for once not due to the safety of his family. 

' _Or was_   _it'_

It only took a few heartbeats to realize that Daryl was in fact family. It was a truth he hadn't so much as been avoiding, just not addressing. Rick cared about the tired werewolf, more than he could probably ever properly express. Rick was a man who tended to bond quickly with others, being a very extroverted and charismatic person he tended to get attached to the people he spent a lot of time with. Daryl was family now, just as the others were.

And Daryl was gone. 

Members of their group chattered nervously amongst themselves, everyone slowly starting to notice Daryl's absence. No one had seen him since yesterday morning, and as night slowly fell for a second time, they became fearful. The darkness and the small forest sounds seemed that much more intimidating without their friend on watch, and even more so that they knew he was out there somewhere, potentially in danger. The even scarier thought was that he'd left them willingly. 

"Daryl wouldn't leave." Glenn insisted, seeming to be the only one with that conviction. "He  _wouldn't_." 

"The mutt's been itching to dump us ever since the beginning, kid." Shane shook his head, looking about the small group of survivors, and they knew even he was feeling the absence. They'd all grown used to Daryl's protection, and after the incident with the rogue group and the alpha, they felt their vulnerability that much more. 

Rick was torn; on one hand he didn't want to believe Daryl would ever abandon them all like that, and on the other... Daryl was a wolf, not a human. It was in his nature to need freedom. He wasn't a domestic pet dog the group could use to their advantage and feed scrap meat to, he was a wild animal. He was a fairytale creature that Rick's mum used to read him stories about.

"If Daryl's missing, we should be looking for him." Lori commented, not taking either side. "Whether he wanted to leave or not, we need to make sure he's ok."

"We need to be focusing on Sophia. D can take care of himself." T-Dog finally spoke up, "I love the dude, but he's a tough sonuvabitch and if anyone can make out there, it's him."

Rick wanted to go looking, wanted to have some sort of confirmation. He wanted to be able to say goodbye if the truth was Daryl wanted to leave them, and the thought of staying put while the other might actually be in real trouble made Rick cringe. 

There had been tension between the two as of late, he knew. He wasn't sure if Daryl had ever really forgiven him for Merle, and seemed to have grown even more distant after their experiences at the CDC. It made his heart pang with a sharp scary something. Sometimes Rick wondered if his affection for him originated from the stories he'd grown up with and his adoration of that image that all the other werewolves he'd encountered had never lived up to-- the image of that fiercely free force of nature. All he could think about was when he first met Daryl, and felt like his mother's words had pulled him right out of a story book or even the bible.

If Daryl was gone by choice, then so be it. Rick would refuse to be the cage that the he feared and hated so much. But if he had not disappeared willingly then Rick would be damned if he didn't try to find him.

 

* * *

 

 

"You have a son, laying sick, and you want to go running half assed into the woods without a single lead or clue?  How the  _hell_  do you expect to find him?" Lori snapped, eyes wide with disbelief. 

"You said so yourself that we had to go looking for him!" 

"I didn't mean _you_! Rick, our son just _barely_ made it alive and you want to go disappear?" Her words cut into him. With the growing strength of her child, Lori's own power of will started to grow once again. She stood tall and angry, a similar force of nature.

Daryl and Lori were alike in ways neither of them would understand, but Rick could see it. 

"We need him, Lor. You know that. He keeps us safe."

"Send someone else. The group needs you more than they need him."

 _That's debatable._  

Lori was selfish, proud, strong, brave, understanding, patient, wise, and unapologetic. It was why Rick loved her, but now her strength of will was something he cursed. The group needed Daryl Dixon.  _Lori_ needed Daryl Dixon. It was a matter of safety and survival, not just friendship and comfort. The wolf was a major playing card in their survival, and deep down he knew Lori was aware of that. 

He knew it was fear and pain that made her want to keep Rick close, after all that had happened. 

He didn't notice Glenn slowly making his way towards them.

"I'll help look for him." The younger man spoke up, starling the couple. "Shane, Andrea and T-Dog are sticking to Sophia's trail, don't worry. But they don't need me. Dale's already mapped out the area around where I last saw him go, so..." 

Rick studied the kid. He'd grown in the last few weeks, even now seeming so much older than the chipper pizza delivery boy who'd saved him from a tank sized coffin. He knew Glenn had been close to Daryl, closer than  _he'd_ ever hoped to be (he refused to let jealousy be a playing factor). 

"You think you can find him?" Rick asked hesitantly, "The forest is dangerous, I don't want you going alone." 

"Andrea said when Shane and T-Dog don't need her, she'd help me too." Glenn added, "But she needs to put Sophia first." There was no bitterness in that statement, it was just a fact.

Lori looked like she was in pain, face twisted with indecision, until finally she whispered, "Rick." 

He looked back at her, feeling something inside grow warm. She was gazing at him with  _that look_ , the one that meant she was staring at his soul. 

Finally, she shook her head, "Go with him. Be careful. Glenn, watch his back." Rick smiled, taking her in his arms in a hug, hoping she realized she was making the right decision. 

"Prove to me you can keep yourself safe, Rick." She whispered in his ear. 

He nodded, "I'll come back."  _With, or without Daryl._

He fiercely hoped it was 'with'. 

 


	9. familial festerings.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: victim blaming. abuse. Suicidal ideation. Brief rape mention. Brief casual racist language (as per early seasons Daryl and Glenn). This one is a pretty dark at the beginning, but it gets better.

**familial festerings. _chapter nine._**  

 _"In a different time  
When the world was mine  
When I ran as a wolf  
And the sun burnt low_ _"_  
- In the Year of the Wolf   
by Motorhead

 

Daryl stopped running the second something else other than his mindless panic crept into his mind, and that was exhaustion. It was long past nightfall, and up until that moment his mind had been a container for nothing but fear -- fear of the humans he'd left behind. 

His body was heavy and his shoulders ached and were starting to become wet with infection, but it was only when he stumbled and nearly twisted his forepaw that he realized he needed to stop. 

Without letting himself think about it for too long, he let himself collapse, belly against the cool ground.  _This is stupid, why am I doing this. The last time I ran, the group was nearly killed. Sophia is still out there, you owe it to them to find her. You're being stupid. You're being a child. I would have thought papa had beaten this out of you by now._

He whined, deep in his throat, tail thumping against the grassy ground heavily. 

_You deserve to be punished. Running like this, running away. How dare you run away._

_Shut up. Shut up. Shut up._

He couldn't stand it, these thoughts intruding on his blissful emptiness. He didn't want to think, he wanted to run, he wanted to be empty. No bonds, no emotions, just him running and running forever. 

 _'You can't run forever,_ _Tsel’ Ubiystva. You'll always come back, because you know that you're worth nothing anywhere else. You're just trash underfoot, for someone else to step on and dirty their foot. You're tainted. A disease. It's my job to keep you here, and not bother the rest of the world with your wretchedness. Come on, don't give me that look. Are you going to cry? You look just like your whore mother when you cry, like a whiny little slut that realized just what she's worth. Pick yourself up, Tsel'. Entertain your dear papa, burn yourself with this cigar. That'll teach you to run. Never run away.'_

_Fuck you, fuck you._

Daryl dug his claws into the dirt, closing his golden flashing blue eyes as a shudder ran down his spine. Was he really still trying to rebel from his father, after all these years? He could go where he please, he was free, there was no need to associate his father with this any longer. He wasn't running from his father, or running to spite him, he was doing it to protect himself from the group, from the threat of forming bonds with them. This had nothing to do with his father. 

So why was the memory pushing so violently against his mind?

 _'I'm just trying to remind you of your_ worth _, Daryl Dixon.'_ Glenn's voice whispered at the back of his aching head, when he suddenly felt a lurch of something inside him.  

His body involuntarily convulsed, limbs shaking and bending, transforming against his will.  _What's happening?_ He was awash with panic, never before had he involuntarily shifted from wolf to human, always the other way around. He fought back against his body, focusing on his wolf form and hanging on for dear life. His lips started morphing, snout disappearing and teeth becoming thin and flat, and he could feel his tongue flexing and shortening. 

"No, no, no, no." His mouth gasped, his speech garbled by his hybrid throat, he couldn't be human, not out here in the middle of nowhere, naked and too weak to transform back.

He never felt so out of control in his life.

 

* * *

 

"Daryl?" Rick called, voice loud against the peaceful calm of the forest.

Glenn shook his head, feeling despair start to become the leading emotion in the slushy of feelings he was having. _This is ridiculous. He couldn't have gone that far, and he would have heard us by now. We've been walking all afternoon._

"Do you think maybe he left?" He voiced his thoughts, quietly. Rick didn't reply at first, but his shoulders were taught and hunched.

"If he did, it's his right to." Came the reply, finally. "Do I wish he'd said he was leaving? Yes. Do I wish he'd said goodbye? Yes. Do I wish... Do I wish he'd stayed? Yes. But it's his right to leave. He doesn't owe us anything." 

"I want him to feel safe." Glenn shrugged, "If he doesn't feel safe with us, then he should leave. I just... I can't imagine he'd just disappear like that." 

"Well, to be honest we don't really know him that well, Glenn." Rick glanced back at him, "Not really." 

_I kinda thought I did._

They walked in silence again, marked with a few now slightly dejected sounding calls out to their missing friend. The mid afternoon sun trickled through the treetop canopy creating shadows over the grass and brush, startling Glenn every time the wind blew the leaves and the shadows changed and twisted. Every time he thought it was either a walker lurching out of the darkness, or Daryl sauntering out. It was always just shadows, and they were always just alone. 

"It feels really silent out here today." He muttered, hands shoved in his pockets, "Weirdly quiet."

"It's all in your head."

"I dunno." Glenn sighed, "Something just feels weird."

Rick raised his hand sharply, signalling him to shut up. Glenn froze, noting how tense the cop suddenly looked, "What is it?" He whispered. 

"Walkers." Rick murmured, barely a breath of a voice. Sure enough, Glenn could soon hear them -- the sounds of many broken feet shuffling across the ground, teeth gnashing, rotten necks cracking with each movement of their decimated jaws. 

"How many do you think?" He whispered, peering through the trees. He could see them now, pouring out of the thicker thickets. 

"Seems like a herd, could be hundreds for all we know. We have to get back, we're far enough out that I think the farm will be safe from them, don't think they're headed in that direction --" 

"But we still have to get going." Glenn agreed, then paused, "But Daryl..."

"C'mon Glenn, we need to go."

He cringed, closing his eyes. It felt like defeat. After all this, his friend was still missing.  _Maybe he's dead._ No, no Daryl was alive. Of course he was, he was  _Daryl_ , the epitome of survival. It still felt like Glenn was betraying him, though, like he owed it to him to keep looking, even if Daryl didn't want to be found.

It was a struggle to make his feet follow Rick, he itched to keep going, walkers be damned. He knew Rick had the same sentiments, that it was his promises to Lori and his family that made him turn back.

"Do you think he's ok?" 

Rick glanced back at him, "Of course."

Glenn heard the hesitation, the doubt. Epitome of survival or not, Daryl carried a lot of vulnerability along with his invincibility. He was a magnificent beast of survival and strength, powerful and dangerous, but he was also a traumatized submissive half breed with a broken pack bond.

"I want to keep looking as much as you do, Glenn." Rick finally spoke up again, "But we'll be no use to him dead. We'll go back out again once we're sure it's safe, but until then we need to head back to the farm."

"I- I know. I just..."

"I know, I know." 

They walked on in silence, both pondering their attachments to the wolf, the pull that drew them to him, that itch in their souls. Glenn had almost mistaken it for attraction, for some kind of middle school crush, but now he understood it was something much different, much deeper, much more primal than that. Maybe it was the need to survive, the instinct that drew him to his best chance of making it through, or maybe it was reliance, or even the opposite, the need to protect and nurture. 

Whatever it was, it had hooked him in the gut and was urging him to keep looking, to not give up, and it took all his willpower not to give in and face the oncoming danger solely for the off chance that he'll be brought to Daryl.

Rick glanced at him, "Daryl's special, isn't he." 

It took a second for Glenn to sift through the possible meanings to that statement: Special to  _Glenn,_ specifically? Special to Rick? Special in the 'I can tell he's not pureblooded' way? Special in the 'he's precious to us' way? Special in the 'he's broken pretty bad' way? _  
_

"Yeah." Glenn agreed, "Yeah he is." 

 

* * *

 

Daryl curled up in the leaves and the dirt, staring at a beetle crawling past. His eyes followed its bumbling movements as its tiny legs carried it by. 

He'd been laying there since last night, through the morning and day, and now to a new oncoming night. Though it wasn't night yet, the day had slowly aged into evening, but he could feel the moon slowly coming to life, could hear the faint whisperings of her song, despite it still being drowned out by the sun's dominating and oppressive light. Night was coming though, the sun was so bright because it was low on the horizon, slowly setting.

Somewhere, he heard a coyote howl, and laughed a little to himself. Here he was, king of the forest, naked, weak, cold, slowly coming down with a fever. His body felt frail and his skin never felt so vulnerable. 

 _I could just end it._  He thought to himself casually. The idea was dangerously tempting, reminiscent of the city and of childhood. That he could just give up, make it all be over. He hadn't had thoughts like that since the world ended, but now, feeling so out of control and  _desperate_ , they came naturally to him. 

"Goddamn it." He breathed, curling up in on himself tighter, hugging himself like his organs were going to spill out. "Fuck. Goddamn it."

_'Pathetic.'_

The coyote howled again, the beast was his kin, a distant, far removed cousin. It was difficult to understand its voice in his human form, brain not made to process the pitches and warbles like his wolf's was, but he could make out its meaning well enough: ' _I'm here, I'm here, I'm here._ ' It was calling, letting its pack know where it was, ' _I'm here, I'm here, I'm here._ ' 

A wolf's call was very different from that of a coyote's, but they used the same meanings, same tones. He had howled just the same way back when he and Merle were hunting, when they'd separated to cover more ground and needed to reconnect before they headed home. ' _I'm here, I'm here, I'm here._ ' 

He scoffed, breath puffing up dust. His face was still pressed against the ground, covered in dirt and blood from a scrape below his eye. A fly buzzed around him. Waiting. He felt like an abandon pup, rejected by its den mother. Waiting for death. The fly landed on his arm.

"Fuck you." He whispered to it hoarsely, closing his eyes. Something made him press closer against the earth, some vibration in the dirt pricking his senses. 

In seconds, he could hear feet crashing through the underbrush, too coordinated to be walkers, and too loud to be anything other than humans. He imagined a group of survivors coming upon him, naked in the dirt. ' _I could be a nice little piece of ass for them. A quick, free fuck. Take a page out of mom's book.'_ He laughed bitterly to himself. 

"Daryl?"

_Oh fuck._

He didn't respond, almost preferring if it was a rogue group finding him, it would probably be less painful than to face _them_ , to be pulled back into the bond, to have his heart broken again. These people, his  _bondmates_ , the people he'd tried so desperately to escape, too scared of what staying meant for him. He stayed still. Perhaps they hadn't seen him. 

"Jesus christ, Daryl! Rick, it's Daryl!"

He still didn't respond, as though playing dead, but he found he _couldn't_ respond. He felt paralyzed. The bond was pulling at him, urging him toward Daryl and Glenn, urging him to yip and call and roll over onto his back, exposing his belly in happiness and excitement. In lieu of doing that, all he could do was stay frozen and hate himself.

"Daryl? Can you hear me? Daryl? Are you ok?" Glenn was calling out, coming toward him, "Jesus, Daryl, what happened."

He shut his eyes tight, shuddering a hoarse breath. He couldn't do this. He couldn't. There was such a  _deep_ pain tearing through him,  _goddamn_ why did they have to come after him, why couldn't they have just let him disappear.  _'Because they need you. You're useful to them.'_

Rick was pulling a jacket around his naked form, covering him up best he could, gently, tenderly, lovingly, "Daryl? Can you hear me?" He was asking softly, "Blink twice for yes."

"Fuck you." He wheezed, shutting his eyes tight, " _Fuck._ "

"Hey, it's ok, you're alright." Rick whispered, "It's all ok."

Daryl choked out a hoarse laugh, wanting to disappear. The jacket smelled of him. He hated, so  _deeply_ , that it was comforting.

 

* * *

 

Glenn's mind was racing. What had happened? Was he hurt? Did someone hurt him? It was hard not to jump to assumptions when you find your good friend lying naked in the dirt, initially completely catatonic and unresponsive. He didn't want to think about the possibilities.

He watched Rick carefully wrap him up in his jacket, soothingly whispering to him. Glenn wanted to help, but he was too strung up to be very much aid in comforting. Every inch of him was on edge, full of worry and fear.

In a few moments, Daryl slowly got to his feet, leaning heavily on Rick. His face was cut and there were several scrapes and bruises on his chest and arms, it looked like he'd taken a tumble, not so much like someone had beaten him. There was some relief in that, at least. 

"What happened?" He asked hesitantly, coming over to help the wolf stand up. 

"Don't matter." He muttered, grunting.

"It's ok if you don't want to talk about it right now, we were just worried about you." Rick eased, gently urging him into motion, as they slowly began walking. 

Daryl shook his head, "Aint that. Just. Fell." He paused, "My skin... my transformation... something went wrong."

"Have you transformed a lot today?" Glenn asked, concerned. 

"No. Nothing like that... has ever happened before. My skin went out of control, went back to human." 

Was it some aspect of his genetics? His human half, in the literal, biological sense, rebelling? Or was it simply exhaustion. Either way, Glenn was worried. Even more worried about the wetness in Daryl's eyes, hoping they would pass off as being glossy due to fever. 

Rick frowned, "So is that why you left? Because you couldn't control your transformations?" 

Glenn could see Daryl visibly pause, less of a pause and more of a stutter of being, like the blue screen of death. Daryl quickly seemed to reboot and give a small nod. 

They walked slowly, carefully mindful of Daryl's slow pace and weak legs.

Glenn kept an eye on him, noting the inflamed skin around his burns and the noticeable infection, no wonder Daryl seemed to be burning up. On top of him pushing himself so hard day after day, shapeshifting far too often, not sleeping enough, now his wounds had also gotten infected. Glenn really hoped his recent issues with shifting stemmed from his fever and exhaustion, and not something more condemning and less explainable, like his parentage. He wanted to have another discussion with Daryl, away from Rick's ears, hoping to glean some truth from him.

It was almost an hour of following Rick's compass before they found themselves in familiar territory, knowing they were nearing the farm. Suddenly, Daryl seized up, jerking in their grasp like a possessed man. 

"Shit, Daryl!" Glenn exclaimed, as the man his arms fell to his knees, panting.

Daryl didn't reply, but arched back and bared his neck, eyes wide and wet, "Rick, I-" Luckily, Rick seemed too worried to notice the incriminating tears slowly welling up, kneeling down beside him carefully.

"Daryl? Daryl are you ok?"

Daryl seized up again, body convulsing, eyes flashing gold, teeth slowly elongating before shrinking back, then quickly elongating again, stabbing into the soft flesh of his lip, his whole body shuddered, "I--" 

"Rick, go get help. Get Mr. Greene." It felt strange to be giving orders to Rick for once, but the man quickly stood and ran off, leaving Daryl to shake in Glenn's arms.

He soothingly patting his shoulder, quickly whispering, "Talk to me Daryl, what's going on. Is it because of...?"

"I- I dun', I dunno." Daryl gasped, wincing in pain, his joints seeming to grind as though about to transform, but still Daryl remained human, "Everythin'... 's been wrong. I--" He took a deep breath, as the tremors seemed to slowly abate, "I shoulda' been able to pick up  that girl's scent. Shoulda' smelled you two comin' before ya found me. Shoulda' been stronger against Hawthorne. Been harder to shift lately. I thought... thought maybe it was 'cus of my burns, but..."

It seemed his strange spasming had stopped, now he was left weak and breathing heavily in Glenn's arms. 

"There's not much documentation on what effects crossbred blood has on older mischlings." He pointed out, "Most don't live long enough. It could be your human blood is causing your problems."

"There's... there's something else. It shouldn't be happening this quickly or this... naturally, not with humans, but I-" Daryl took a deep breath, "I'm becoming bonded. With this... this pack. Bonds with humans are difficult and uncommon. It shouldn't be like this." 

"You're not a pure blooded werewolf, Daryl." Glenn reminded him, "It makes sense. You're half human. Your human half is connecting with us, and your wolf half and wolf instincts are adapting to that by forming the pack bonds. That could even be why your transformations have been unstable, because you neglect your human half and your human lineage and now that you're bonding with humans, everything's all out of sorts." 

Daryl gave an uncommitted snort, "I don't have a human half or a wolf half, not even in the sense of blood. That's not how it works. It's not cut down the middle, I'm just a mix of both." Even he sounded unsure, though, and Glenn felt a bit better now that it seemed he has something to work off of.

"Regardless, just be careful. Don't push yourself. Let your burns heal. And for god's sake, stop fighting the bonds." Daryl shot him a look at that, "Yes, I know that's why you ran. Don't be a dumb ass, I'm not as stupid as I look. I've noticed you withdrawing from us. We're a group, and if to you, that's translating as being a pack, and you're forming bonds because of that, stop fighting them." 

"Easy for you to say, chinaman. You don't understand what it's like." he snapped, "It  _hurts_." 

"Korean. And nah, I  _don't_ know what it's like, but we're a team, man. A family or whatever." He gave him a pointed look, "It hurts because you're fighting it." 

They heard people approaching, Rick towing Hershel and his daughter Beth. 

"So what happened, exactly?" The old man muttered, Glenn knew he had some misgivings about the werewolf, some old prejudices that came with the decades he was raised in. 

"He just started shaking and spasming." Glenn offered, "Like some kind of seizure. He seems ok now though, but I think he has a fever and his burns are infected." He hoped to point the doctor in that direction, something the man knew and could help them with. Daryl's other issues were a bit out of his depth.

"Let me have a look." Hershel slowly knelt down, examine the angry redness of his injuries, "Beth, hand me my kit, please." 

The girl did so, blushing slightly and avoiding looking at Daryl's exposed body, obviously aware that the jacket barely covered him. 

"How'd you come to be out here, buck naked, son?" Hershel asked, pulling some antiseptic from his bag, "Cain Loopies may be rabid, but 's far as I know, they aint generally nudists." 

"Aint rabid. Aint a nudist." Daryl growled, biting at the slur. "Canis lupus hominid." 

Hershel shrugged, "No matter. You've got a biter of an infection here. Better get you back so I can drain it." 

Glenn helped Rick pull Daryl back up off the ground, careful to keep the jacket wrapped around his waist to protect whatever dignity the wolf had left. He knew it was rough enough to walk around with his exposed scars, especially around these two strangers.

Aside from the marks on his face, it was rare to get to see the history that was mapped out on his skin. The only other times he'd seen them were that time in the RV when Carol was tending to his burns, and that very brief time before Hawthorne. He knew about Daryl's relationship with his father and his brother, and that those scars were evidence of that abuse and cruelty.

"You've had a rough time of it, eh?" Hershel seemed to be noting the same thing Glenn was, from a less informed perspective, "You've got helluva collection there." 

Daryl grunted monotonously. No one usually mentioned the scars, out of respect.

"Most of 'em look like Loopie absurdness, y'all scrap like alley cats, I swear. But I recognize those." Hershel gestured to the long, uniform scars marking his back, running alongside the ragged claw marks. "Yer daddy was a belter?" 

"When he had thumbs to hold a belt." Daryl shrugged, "He preferred the convenience of claws." 

Hershel made a noise of sympathy, "Seems bastard fathers are a cross species phenomenon, huh." 

"Apparently." 

Glenn glanced at Daryl out of the corner of his eyes, but he seemed more or less relaxed. The tension had finally drained from his posture and his lips had lost the tight frown they'd worn. Daryl worried him endlessly, but for a second he stopped thinking so hard and focused on the tug in his gut that he now knew was born from the pack bond. He'd never been bonded to a wolf before, though he'd spoken to people who had been. 

He tested it, relaxing and meditating on Daryl's presence and the connection between them, letting himself surrender to the primal instincts that humans all had but were so out of tune with, the instincts that wolves had in spades but Glenn only had in teaspoons. They were enough though, to tell him that Daryl was ok. He'd be ok. 

Glenn and Rick would make sure of it.


	10. we will all be ok.

**we will all be ok. _chapter ten._**  

 

 _"Didn't you read it in the detail?_  
 _That if you're idle in your welfare_  
 _Now you wanna know an answer_  
 _But if you're dancing you're a dancer_  
 _The devil takes care of his own."_  
- the devil takes care of his own  
by Band of Skulls

Daryl was quiet as Hershel drained his infected burns, pushing out the puss and clear liquid, lathering the wounds with disinfectant and aloe vera gel. The ministrations of the vet’s gentle hands were oddly comforting, despite the farmer’s general harshness. He found himself leaning into the touch, feeling all the tension drain out of his body.

Hershel was careful in bandaging the wounds, asking for confirmation if anything hurt or felt uncomfortable. Daryl was grateful, it made him feel like a real person instead of some mutt the vet was caring for. 

When he finally stepped out into the sunshine, walking through the door of the farmhouse, he felt a heaviness in the air he wasn't keen to come back to. While he found himself having to reorient himself to the group as he felt the bonds slowly solidify, returning Lori's hesitant smile, accepting Dale's courteous nod, things weren't fixed. 

It still was a struggle not to snarl as people drew near, to pull away, to push back against the bonds, and god these people weren't making it easy. They themselves were still in almost as much turmoil, with their fighting and lashing out. He could feel the chaos in the energies emanating off of the humans, tension running thick. 

“How are you feeling?”

Rick's voice sounded out from behind him, he turned to face the alpha.

“Better.” He grunted, a _‘thank you’_ on the tip of his tongue, not quite ready to come out.

“Glenn’s worried about you.” He stated calmly, “I am too.”

Daryl ignored him, walking past to head toward his little camp further up the hill, until Rick spoke up again:

“He told me about the bonds. That you’ve formed pack bonds with us all.”

He stopped, glancing back at him, “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not. Or I wouldn't be. Except for the fact that you apparently want to ignore them.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m a member of the police force, or _was_ one… I’ve been to the training workshops, I’ve had to do the research. Bonds are important and _integral_ to you and your people.”

“ _Me and my people_. I have no people, Rick.” He spat, his southern drawl coating his words.

“You have us. Apparently we’re your pack, Daryl. You can’t just ignore that.”

“You aren’t my pack.” Daryl replied calmly, in a bold faced lie, “You don’t belong t’ me."   _I belong to_ you _, I belong to you._

"This isn't healthy."

"None of this is healthy, Rick. Look around you, we're falling apart."

"And running away from the truth is going to help that?"

Daryl shook his head, lowering his gaze, "Ever since I first met you, you became my alpha. Ever since Shane forced m’ neck to be exposed and you stopped him, you became my alpha. You, you human, weak, _cop_ … are my alpha. If only pa could see me now.” He choked out a weak laugh, “God, he’d kill me.”

“Daryl, me being human doesn’t mean anything. If I naturally fulfill that empty place in your life, where an alpha should be, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Rick soothed, “Your father has nothing to do with it. Daryl, look at me please.”

Daryl didn’t at first, wondering if Rick knew what he was doing by asking that of him, “You’re my alpha, Rick. You do realize what that means. Are you really prepared to accept that?”

“I don’t need to _accept_ anything, there’s no contract I’m signing here, Daryl. If this is coming naturally, if it’s just how things are, there’s no need to force it one way or another. I’ll never order you to bare your neck to me, but I’ll also always be there for you, to support you and give you direction as you need it.” He sighed, “If I’m your alpha because I’m the leader of this group, or because it’s in my nature, then that’s how it is. I’m sorry if you don’t want that, but I’ll never… _exploit_ you or your submission.”

Daryl stared at his feet, contemplating his words, “You’ve never been bonded to a wolf before, Rick. You really dunno what you’re getting into. None of you do.”

“Tell me, then. Let me get into your head Daryl, tell me what this is like for you.”

He chewed his lip, tasting stale blood where he had bitten it earlier that evening, “When ya’ speak, you’re not jus’ speaking to me. The alpha in you speaks directly t’ the submissive in me. I do things that I can’t control, like avoid your eyes or bow my head. When you tell me to do something, I want desperately to do it, to please you, because you’re my alpha."  He hadn’t spoken that much all at once in a very long time, but as he spoke, he found he couldn’t stop, and it all started to spill out. Rick listened patiently as Daryl let him inside, let him hear what ‘pack’ and ‘bond’ meant to a wolf.

"When Glenn or any other member of the… of the group… is in danger, my entire being forces me to help ‘em, to protect ‘em. It’s like something inside me is on fire. I need to protect ‘em and keep ‘em safe. I need them to... l-- to like me. Or I feel like ‘m not good enough. I always need t’ be good enough, because I belong to you, and to them, and you’re all are mine, my alpha, my pack. It hurts. The bonds hurt, the need hurts. As I accept the bonds an’ they begin to strengthen, it starts to go beyond natural intuition. I can feel things, sense things, without meaning to. I can feel you all-- us all-- falling apart. I don’t want this, Rick. I don’t want bonds, or a pack, because ‘m gonna lose you all. Slowly, painfully, over the course of months or years, you’re all gonna die around me and I won’t be able t’ stop it.”

When he was finished, he could hear the gears working in Rick’s head, process what had been said.

Finally, Rick spoke up, “I want us to make this work, Daryl. Not just for your sake, but all of ours. You may be the only wolf here, but honestly, we all need a pack. We all need this. This… this bonding situation… might be what we need to survive. You may have bonded to all of us, but through you, we might be able to bond with each other in our own more human ways.”

 _I haven’t bonded to_ all _of you_. Daryl thought dryly, glancing surreptitiously at Shane. He hadn’t quite mentioned the dynamic between Shane and Rick, and the fact Shane was clearly an alpha as well, just not _his_ alpha.

“Y’know, my cousins don’t work this way.” Daryl spoke up quietly, chewing his thumb, “Y’all thought they did, from studying us and my captive cousins, but they don’t.”

“Your cousins?”

“Grey wolves. Canis Lupus. There’s no alphas, no natural submissives. Not in the wild. Researchers found out that it’s purely human influence that created pack power dynamics. Captive grey wolves develop alphas, and when werewolves integrated with humans, we did too.” Daryl smirked, “So really, this is all your fault.”

Rick smiled softly, “I guess so. Do you know what it was like before? Before we integrated? I know werewolves are secretive about their history, so it’s ok if you don’t want to tell me.”

“There weren’t really ‘packs’, just families, kinda like human families. Sometimes there’d be a couple families mixed together, but usually it was just the parents and the kids, and then when the kids grew up, they’d go and make their own family. It was essentially the same as y’all.”

“So why did you start forming the packs you people have today?”

“You know how it went when humans first started meetin' us. We originated in what’s now known as Russia and what’s now known as Palestine. Y’all European folk only knew about us in fairy tales an' folklore 'cus the Russian wolves lived too far up north, and we didn’t know about you at all. Then when we started expanding south, and you guys north and everywhere else, y’all started massacring us. The Palestinian wolves managed a bit better, migrating and moving about to avoid Europe’s influence and to avoid attracting too much attention from the humans living in those areas. But we were still almost driven to extinction, survivors had t’ stick together. Wolves had to form families with strangers t’ survive."

He paused, and Rick spoke up, "Kinda like how it is now, right? With the walkers?"

"Yeah, just like now." Daryl nodded, "Wolves had to form families with strangers t’ survive, and with a lot of strangers in close quarters, power plays started to happen because it wasn’t just the parents and the kids where power had a natural flow, now it was unrelated adults having to coexist and survive with each other. Even later when things were more peaceful, at least, when y'all weren't committing mass genocide... when we started to integrate with the humans, it had become natural for us t’ clump together with other wolves nearby, creating packs. We'd long started becoming born with innate instincts to dominate or submit and to form bonds, from when we _had_ to naturally dominate or submit and to bond or else we’d split apart the pack and we’d be killed by you humans.”

“Wow.” Rick whistled, “What I would have given to learn all that in my history classes, we got a brief rundown on your origins in Russia and Palestine and the massacres, but we never got taught about _why_ you formed packs. Who taught you your history? Your father, or did you go to a Ves' volk school?”

“My pa and my grandfather taught me a lot, but some of it is innate.”

“Innate?”

“Predok pamyati. The memory of our ancestors. Y’know, humans are some of th’ only creatures on earth who aren’t born knowing most of their history. I’ve spoken to coyotes who could trace back their history for thousands of years, d’ya think _they_ had history lessons?” Daryl shrugged.

Rick shook his head, “That’s incredible. I don’t know what’s more amazing, that you have innate knowledge of your people’s history, or that you can _speak to coyotes._ ”

“It’s less speaking an’ more communicating, in wolf form we don’t use language humans do. It’s more instinctual than that, through our vocal tones an’ body language. Some things also just translate in a less tangible way. With coyotes, they speak with fear to me because my species is stronger and dangerous to them, but they'll still howl their stories t' us."

“I probably know more about wolves right now than any human ever has.” Rick commented lightly, shaking his head, “In school we were never taught anything about your culture or most of your history. We learnt a bit about the genocides, and we had a brief lesson in biology about your anatomy and some of the more scientific aspects of your transformations, but that’s it.”

“We’ve never trusted you, your species abuses your _own_ people.” Daryl shrugged, “We didn’t feel th' need to share ourselves with you, we knew you'd forcibly take what you wanted. But there are plenty of humans who know about us, humans who live in packs or are soul bonded with wolf partners, but their dedication is t' their wolf bondmates.”

“I could sit for hours and listen to you talk about your people. My ma used to tell me stories about wolves, mostly bible stories and the like. I’ve always been fascinated by you. Back then though, I saw you more as mythical creatures instead of living people.”

“You’ve pro'bly found out we’re a lot less fantastical than what’s depicted in the bible.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Rick eyed him, and Daryl felt suddenly very exposed, even though he’d long since found clothes to cover himself with.

He glanced away, nervously, "For all I know, our species is already dying out, just like yours. In the face of the apocalypse, we're both pathetic."

"Is that what you think this is? The apocalypse?" Lori's voice asked from his left, startling him. He'd been so focused on Rick, he hadn't noticed her approach. He had to be more careful, what good was enhanced senses if he didn't use them. 

"Well, what else could it be?" He replied with a non-answer.

She shrugged, glancing at her husband, "This doesn't feel biblical." 

"Have you read th' bible? This kinda fits the bill." he paused, "I'm gonna get some rest. See y'all later." 

He started to walk off, but Rick suddenly called after him, "Daryl!"

Daryl glanced over his shoulder, "Wha?" 

"You should bring your tent down to where the rest of us are set up."

He pondered that a moment, feeling the tug of the bond draw him, pulling him to be closer to the group, "I'll think about it." 

"Thank you." Rick smiled, then turned to Lori and followed her over to the fire back where the group was fixing dinner. 

A faint sent caught Daryl's nose, something familiar. It was the same strange smell he'd noticed the other day, of many walkers, but slightly  _off_. They smelled close, but he couldn't pinpoint where. 

He forced himself to focus, closing his eyes, putting all his strength into focusing on the scent. There was something else too, something... 

The wind was going in the wrong direction, throwing him off. Daryl parted his lips, allowing the air to catch on the delicate sensory organ on the roof of his mouth. If he weren't already exhausted and having enough troubles with his skins as it were, he'd shift into wolf. There was something wrong here, something dangerous. But he'd noticed it the other day and nothing bad had happened yet, so he told himself he didn't have to worry about it right then and should get some sleep. 

Or maybe some food, as he inadvertently caught the scent of the stew boiling down by the camp. He licked his lips. He hadn't eaten in... god, how long? 

His stomach made the decision for him, with a raucous grumble. He turned around and started heading down the hill, pretending not to notice Carol's happy smile when she noticed him approach. He didn't like the idea of  _anyone_ being happy to see him, but fuck if the sight of her smile made something inside him, the place in his heart where the bond drew him close to these humans, glow.

"Hungry?" She asked brightly, picking up a bowl. 

He grunted, nodding slowly. She poured him some stew, and he quietly thanked her.

Daryl debated taking his dinner back up to his tent, eating alone as usual, but Glenn caught his eye and he he had a sudden desire to stay. He could already feel those damned bonds pulling and tugging at him, like they drove his feet beyond his control. It was a drive to stay, to be near to these people. Ever since he accepted the bonds, they'd grown exponentially in power as though they'd been waiting him.

It looked like Glenn had already eaten, now strumming languidly at an old guitar, beaming at the farmer's daughter seated beside him. She was a nice girl, strong, pretty, slightly dangerous smelling but in a way that made him confident she'd be a good ally to him should they need to fight for their lives here. She was capable. Capable was good. 

But she was still an outsider, not apart of his pack, which made him stay wary of her. Even more, it made him unhappy to see Glenn become so attached to an outsider. 

Glenn looked so content though. So he kept his mouth shut, and sat on the other side of him without a word, shifting his attention to his food. Rick wanted them to trust these people, and while he wanted to challenge him on that, he couldn't muster the strength to go against the alpha's wishes. If Rick trusted the Greene family, Daryl would do his best to follow in suite. 

"Hey wolf boy, how are you feeling?" Maggie's voice sounded out amongst the idle chatter of the group.

Daryl glanced up, but didn't meet her eyes, instead looked at the chair Glenn was sitting on, "Fine."

"You had us worried."

"Don' worry about me."

"Yeah, Daryl's the toughest one here." Glenn announced happily, "You should see him fight walkers, Maggie. It's like out of a slasher flick."

"I hope I never have to see that." She smiled, "The farm's pretty quiet, we shouldn't see any action here." 

"Y'never know." Daryl mumbled, taking a mouthful of soup. She shot him a look, and he could feel a sharp bolt of anger come from her, before easing into something indiscernible but undoubtedly tense. It was hard get a read on these outsiders, he was much more adept at decoding his pack mates. 

The sun had set, just a faint pink glow left on the horizon, the sky slowly turning a dark navy colour. He could feel the moon inside him, could sense it hanging up above them. It would be a couple weeks still until it was full, but he still felt his strength return under it's growing light.

As the sky grew darker, and the fire blazed brighter, the group slowly eased into comfortable silence marked with a few lighthearted conversations amongst friends. The stress and tension seemed to slowly ease away, and Daryl could almost smile when he noticed the tight knot in his chest finally unravel and leave him feeling calm and at peace. It was comfortable here, among these people. He didn't feel the need to run away, to seclude himself to his lonely tent way up on the hill, to be alone. In this rare moment, being amongst people was preferable to being alone. The only other time he'd felt that was when he was young, in those times when his brother would come home from juvie or jail, and Daryl would latch on and never want to leave his side. When he grew up, he felt mostly comfortable being around his brother, but he still preferred being alone above all else. Sometimes being with Merle was a necessity, like when the world ended, and he could handle it but it was still a breath of fresh air to finally be by himself.

But being amongst these people, when they were calm and happy... this was what peace felt like. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ves' volk: all wolf  
> A werewolf exclusive school.


	11. what is waste.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: misogynistic slurs (not directed at a woman), and canon child death

**what is waste. _chapter eleven._**

"See _me now, this is not me_  
 _Not like the one I used to be_  
 _See me now, you would not guess_  
 _A different heart raving in my chest."_  
- the year of the wolf  
by motorhead

Rick stared into Daryl’s eyes because he didn’t know where else to look.

The entire world as he knew it, for that’s what the farm was to him in those few days, had been nothing but peaceful. Calm, perfect, a place for their broken family to piece itself back together. Carl was healing, Lori was coming back to life, Andrea and Dale were mending their friendship, Daryl was… Daryl was here.

Staring into his eyes.

Because the world was falling apart again.

_1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe in._

While his own wife had been finding her spirit again, another strong woman was breaking. The scent of old, rotten blood was strong on Rick’s tongue. Bodies were strewn across the grass, bodies that had died long ago but only now finally fell to rest. Carol was screaming, Daryl was holding her tight to his chest, looking over her shoulder to hold Rick’s eyes as Sophia grew closer.

“It’s not her anymore.” Daryl said quietly, or as quiet as he could with the sounds of grief filling the air, from Carol, from Maggie and Beth, even from Shane as he spit and shouted to a deaf audience, his projected anger coming from his own insecurities.

Rick didn’t know if Daryl was speaking to Carol or him. It didn’t really matter. He broke eye contact and faced the walker slowly ambling toward him, on crooked knees and shuffling feet.

_4, 3, 2, 1. Breathe out._

She was so young, had been so young. While Carl lived, Sophia died. Was it a trade off? Is that how the universe worked now?

He took the shot.

He’d never heard a bullet break a heart before.

Carol sobbed loudly, daughter dead, dead, dead.

 

* * *

 

All things considered, Daryl had held up well that afternoon. Rick was proud of him, out of everyone he'd put in the most time and effort into Sophia's search. There had been something desperate and determined in the way the wolf had taken to the case, like it was his own daughter lost out there in the woods. To see all that ripped away, Sophia's limp body fallen on the ground, it must have been agonizing.

But Daryl just clutched Carol's weeping form and became a support for her, physically in the _very_ least. He didn't even disappear right away, as Carol slowly calmed down and everyone started to clear out the bodies. And when he did finally disappear, it was when Carol had finally succumb to her grief and fallen into a catatonic sleep in the winnebago, and he drifted away slowly, carefully, back up to his tent on the hill.

Rick was proud of _himself_ for not following immediately. He knew he had to give Daryl some times to grieve on his own, to process everything. If he were human, this would be his time to cry over the loss of young life. Some matters were private, and Rick could respect that, as much as he wanted to be involved in Daryl's life. He sat with Lori, his wife tucked in against his body, closer than she’d been in a long time. Despite the way they’d been drifting apart, this recent tragedy reminded them of the need to cling to their loved ones.

Andrea sat nearby, Dale and Glenn at either side. Their faces were blank, lost, eyes half lidded, noses scrunched at the smell of burning flesh.

To their left, a pile of corpses was aflame.

“Will Carol be ok?” Andrea asked quietly, slowly running her hand through her hair as a nervous twitch.

“Of course not.” Lori replied calmly, “She’s just lost her child.”

Rick grimaced, “Someday, someday she’ll be able to move on. Not anytime soon, but she’s got a future ahead of her and she’ll realize that someday.”

Lori glanced at him with a cold look, but stayed silent.

The evening was wearing on, T-Dog and Shane were almost finished digging the last two graves for Hershel's wife and stepson. Rick himself had dug Sophia’s earlier, while the others piled up the rest of the bodies to burn. He didn’t want to look at the white sheet a few meters away, covering the tiny form of the dead girl.

He heard the clatter of a shovel hitting the ground, and turned to see Shane rising up to face a slowly approaching Daryl.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, coming back here?” Shane seethed.

Daryl didn’t reply, just stared straight ahead.

“Shane, back off.” Rick called, standing up quickly, Lori making an indignant noise as he jostled her.

“This fucking misch bitch should have noticed. Should’a fucking smelled them. Smelled _her_. What good is a werewolf in the group, if he’s fucking useless!”

“Don’t call me that.” Daryl snapped, baring his teeth.

“Then stop acting like a filthy mangy half breed.” He spat back, “What fucking werewolf are you if you can’t even smell a little girl in your own backyard?”

“Shane--” Glenn neared, “You’ve got to calm down. You can’t blame Daryl every time something bad happens, this is the _apocalypse_ , man. Bad shit happens.”

“This was avoidable.” Shane said coldly, then turned back to Daryl, voice raising to a near shout, “This was avoidable! If y’all would’a been fuckin listening to me from the start--”

“She’d still have been dead.” Daryl snapped.

“--we wasted days looking for a dead little girl, because _you_ were convinced you could find her. But you’re pathetic, mutt bitch little nose couldn’t even sniff out the rotting fucking corpse of good ol’ Sophia Peletier-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, as Daryl barrelled into him, throwing him off his feet. They tumbled on the grass, fists flying, and Rick moved to cut in but hesitated as he saw Daryl’s eyes flash gold.

“Daryl, calm down. You need to calm down.”

“Fucking mutt! Fucking bitch!” Shane spat, now holding Daryl down with his fist pushed against his neck, knee jabbed roughly into his gut, but Daryl was seconds from an emotionally triggered shift and they all could feel the situation going from volatile to catastrophic.  

“Shane, get off him--” but Daryl had gotten the upperhand again, twisting so he could rain punches down on the man on top of him, fists near turning into claws.

Neither were listening. Rick was stuck between being a police officer and a friend, for _both_ people. He was Shane’s partner on the force, and his brother by anything but blood. And Daryl, his cop instincts were to detain, but his instincts as a friend and bondmate, _and alpha_ , were to help talk him down off the edge.

“Daryl… Daryl I need you to hear me.” Rick spoke firmly, “I need you to calm down for me, ok?”

“Shane, get off him.” Glenn snapped, bravely putting himself physically at risk to grab at Shane’s shirt, but the other man just whipped around to shake him off, looking close to striking out at Glenn as well.

Lori’s voice suddenly cut through the shouting, “Shane! Get off him.”

Her words held a power over Shane that Rick couldn't quite understand at first. It was like a piano string slicing through meat, like that one scene in Ghost Ship, cutting through clean. Shane froze, then shoved Daryl and used the momentum to pull himself off the trembling, rage filled wolf near becoming a beast.

He didn’t spit any final insult, didn’t hurl any final slur, just walked away, fists tight.

Daryl was still shaking, chest heaving, eyes still a bright, shining precious metal gold. His open mouth revealed sharp teeth and his joints were bent in just slightly the wrong way. Rick knelt down beside him, not touching him, just let his presence be known.

“Daryl, it’s ok. You’re ok. You don’t need to shift, it’s alright.” He hoped his voice carried all the right qualities of an alpha Daryl needed, not the ones that would set him off further. He didn’t need an order from a leader, he needed the calm, assured strength of someone he looked up to.

He carefully moved closer, so his hand could rest gently on Daryl’s quivering shoulder, a shoulder that desperately wanted to crack and distort and move under his touch, to transform.

“Daryl?”

“I can’t fucking… I can’t fucking breathe.” Daryl whispered finally, all the energy seeping out of him. His breathing was laboured, but not overly so now. Rick knew the statement meant more than that he was physically having trouble breathing.

Before Rick could say anything, Daryl stood up, joint cracking back into place with a sudden, jarring quickness. He stood there for a second, staring at the ground while all eyes bore down on him from the rest of the group. Rick wondered if they could feel it too, if they felt the bond inside them, could feel the tension and pain in that connection at that moment.

Lori moved beside him, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

She could have been speaking to anyone, for any reason, and it would have somehow made sense, but he knew it was for Daryl’s ears. Lori had perhaps the shallowest, weakest relationship to Daryl, but in that moment Rick knew it was the mother who’d almost lost her son speaking to the wolf with no kin, who’d tried to save a child but failed.

"I'm sorry."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real short, not real sweet. Next chapter written, up next week.


	12. kissing the beehive.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: Brief mentions of rape and eugenics. References to child death.

**kissing the beehive. _chapter twelve._**

_"If you were the wood, I'd be the fire_  
 _If you were the love, I'd be the desire_  
 _If you were a castle, I'd be your moat_  
 _And if you were an ocean, I'd learn to float."  
-_ All I Want Is You by Barry Louis Polisar

Rick stood, silently by Daryl’s tent. Birds were chirping nearby, almost making him forget he lived in a world of carnage and destruction. He almost could let himself fade back into old memories, where life was scary but in a manageable way: strained marriage, bills to pay, existential dread. He hadn’t been faced with constant death, over and over and over again. People dying was just a thing that happened now, like his monthly electricity bill, inevitable and scary but _fuck_ if there wasn’t there more at stake now. He glanced down the hill where he could see his wife walking back to the farmhouse, where their son lay with no knowledge of his friend’s fate. How would Carl react to Sophia’s death?

They had all lost so much already, and Carl had the most to lose, an entire life ahead of him -- now filled with fear and death and heartache. Bullet wounds and dead friends.

Rick shut his eyes tight. He had to believe his son was strong enough to find love and life in this new world, one so different from the one his parents had known growing up.

Daryl was moving around in his tent. He hoped his friend would come out soon, so they could talk. He’d already called out to him twice, he’d give him some more time then try again. He was always so afraid of pushing too hard, crowding him, inadvertently driving him away. All he ever wanted was to be what Daryl needed to feel safe and secure and wanted in this little group of survivors.

Their little group, growing littler by the day.

“Shane was right.”

Rick turned to Daryl, not having a reply ready. He hadn’t expected the wolf to come out from his tent so soon, he hadn’t even heard the rustle of fabric as he climbed out.

Daryl looked haggard, whether it was from his stint in the woods and his seizure, or from the events from today, he looked like his skin had been worn too tight. _Maybe that was a too apt description._

“Are you ok?”

“Shane was right Rick.”

God, those eyes, brewing that storm of blue and gold. He was still unstable, he could feel the crackle of energy in the air, the bite of teeth at the end of his sentence. Rick knew he had to tread lightly. Daryl had held it together well for Carol, but now… now he was a raw, exposed nerve.

“Shane was using you as a scapegoat. No one was to blame, and he needed to direct his grief somewhere. He wasn’t right.” He said calmly, slowly, “Daryl, Shane was _not_ right. You aren’t useless.”

“A wolf would'a smelled her, Rick. _I_ would'a smelled her, I would'a noticed right away that those walkers were on th' farm but I-- I-- I smelled something was weird, strange, but I didn't... I should--” He seemed to be swallowing words faster than he could spit them out, throat working on either a snarl, growl, or a tearless sob.

“Daryl, it’s ok. You’ve been a bit out of it lately, it’s ok. With your seizure in the woods and your issues with your shifting--”

“It’s not ok, alright. A wolf wouldn’t have these issues. A wolf wouldn’t…” He took a deep breath, turning his head a little, face away from him “A wolf wouldn’t be like this, feel like this, do these things.”

Rick didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to help the self esteem of a werewolf doubting his abilities, doubting his own right to claim the name of his species just because of his perceived shortcomings.

“Please, just listen to me.” He murmured, “I trust you, Daryl. I trust you and I trust your abilities as a werewolf. We’ve all been through a lot, we’ve all had our issues. You’ve been injured, your strength is still recovering while your burns heal…”

“Rick _stop_.” Daryl’s voice sounded strange, gravelly, and Rick almost worried he was about to shift into wolf form, “You don’ know what you’re talking about, I’m not-- I’m not--”

“Look at me please.” Rick whispered, “Please, you need to listen to me. Turn around.”

He could feel a tug at the bond, he wondered if it was Daryl trying to resist the alpha voice urging him to obey. He didn’t want it to be like that, he didn’t want Daryl to comply because he _had_ to, he wanted him to turn around because he _trusted_ Rick.

“Rick, don’t…”

“Please Daryl.”

Daryl turned around.

 

* * *

 

 _Daryl was ten years old, sitting beside his grandfather, who smoked his old wooden pipe slowly and measuredly. Every once and awhile, he’d allow his young grandson to take a puff, and Daryl enjoyed the harsh feeling of smoke in his mouth before he’d spit out tendrils, ‘don’t inhale,’ his grandfather would scold, ‘just hold it,_ experience it.'

_Daryl enjoyed the taste of tobacco, pipe tobacco that is. Cigarettes reminded him of pa and his pa’s wife, harsh and acrid. Pipe tobacco was sweeter, fuller._

_‘Someday you’ll bond with someone,’ His grandfather was explaining, ‘someone special an' new. You don’ remember when you first bonded with your brother, or your folks, because family bonds are strong but they just_ are _. They just exist, an' have existed for as long as you’ve lived 'cus you’ve known your family your whole life. But one day you’ll move on, you’ll form your own pack, find your own mate, your own bond brothers and sisters. You’ll feel those bonds begin, an' slowly grow like a pregnancy. You’ll start to feel their emotions, as strong as your own, an' if you’re lucky, you’ll meet someone so special to you that you’ll even feel a ghost of their own thoughts in your mind. You’ll exist like mated pairs in the wild, two halves of a whole.”_

_“I already feel people’s emotions at school.”_

_“Human emotions are easy t' read, kid, you go to a school full of one-skinners.” His grandfather laughed, “But you only feel them like a taste or sensation, you don’_ feel _them. When you meet your bondmates, as your bonds grow, you’ll feel their fear an' happiness like those emotions came from inside yourself.”_

_“That sounds scary.”_

_“Sometimes it is. But sometimes it’s wonderful. To experience the world with so many people, connected in such an intimate way…”_

_“You don’ have a pack anymore, grandpappy. Wha' happened?” Daryl asked quietly, his grandfather lived alone, solitary in his little hut in the woods with his vegetable garden and apple trees._

_“I’ve got Skipper here.” He gestured to the hunting dog lounging in the sunlight by the porch, “He’s as much a part of my pack as any werewolf. Raised 'im as a pup, taught him to hunt with my wolf skin as brothers.”_

_“But you don’ have any werewolves in your pack… can’t have a pack without werewolves.” Daryl frowned._

_“You’ll learn one day, Daryl, that your pack is who you love. I’ve learnt no love from werewolves, we’re a dangerous, vicious species. We like to think that we’re something of a superior group from the humans, dogs, and wild wolves of the world, but we’re not. We’re all the same.”_

_“Pa says…”_

_“Don’ listen to your pa. My son has felt his hardships and directs his pain on others. Your blood… your blood will make you magnificent, kid. Let it sing. Let it feel. Let it live.”_

 

* * *

 

Carol woke with a sudden feeling of shame that wasn’t her own.

Grief, sadness, fear, those were hers. But that shame, it felt strangely foreign, building on top of her own disgraced motherhood like a new building block that didn’t originate from the same place.

It was a dirty, perverse kind of shame. Vaguely feral. Vaguely Daryl.

She shook her head, shaking loose tears free, wiping away at the dried ones caking salt residue on her cheeks. She was almost grateful for feeling anything, should she start to fall back into that awful, terrible emptiness that she’d felt before falling asleep, like nothing meant anything anymore.

Did it? Now that her little girl was… dead. Gone. Forever. The child she’d lain in labour for hours for, her own body a vessel for tiny life, the child she’d held in her arms after birth, still crusted with the liquids from deep inside Carol’s own body, feeling that connection that comes from sharing blood with something that you created and shared your body and life with.

It was like a piece of her had died. She’d given a piece of herself to create the person named Sophia, and now that person was a husk on the ground about to be buried in it.

She heard shouting outside, the voice of Daryl rising above all else.

“Rick! Rick just wait--”

Shifting her weight, she pulled the covers off herself and slowly rose to her feet, trying to remember how to make her legs move. In mechanical motions, she walked to the door of the winnebago and stepped down out into the pink light of the sunset.

The open grasses outside the farmhouse were empty, the pile of smouldering ash all that remained of the bodies prior, and she forced herself to keep from looking at the white sheet that held what was once her daughter.

That death that happened today, that wasn’t her daughter's death. It was the death of that _thing_ her daughter had become-- no-- her daughter had died long ago.

She was shaken again by movement by the apple trees, Rick and Rick walking quickly away from the farmhouse, Daryl seemed to be barely alive, moving almost as robotically as Carol did. Suddenly, the two stopped, Rick turned to Daryl. Words were spoken, and they were too far away for Carol to make out their expression properly.

She couldn’t make herself care what was happening, they were alive, that’s all that mattered. Her family, if she could call them that. Her old family… her husband, head split open with an ax. Her daughter, mauled by walkers.

Carol watched them. She could feel the shame and fear that wasn’t hers. Daryl stood stock still, staring at the ground like a beaten dog.

 

* * *

 

To have seen Daryl turn to him with tears in his eyes, it made all the dominos fall over at once to create a picture painted with human blood that must certainly coursed through his friend’s veins.

Maybe it was just an ancestor, god knows that while most bloodlines were pure, there were plenty of wolves with a small amount of human DNA. Rick wasn’t raised to discriminate, after all, the brief instance of cross breeding in their ancestry usually occurred a thousand years ago and had mostly been bred out, long before any regulations on interspecies relations were put in place.

It was interesting that even as a human himself, he instinctively considered the human blood in Daryl’s veins to be dirty.

“My mother--” Daryl had said, brokenly, “She…”

Rick hadn’t spoken, just stared as those wet eyes wavered back and forth between blue and gold, shaking and quivering colours not sure which they were supposed to be: human or wolf.

Daryl whispered quietly, “Shane was… Shane was right.”

_Fuck._

Suddenly Rick had understood.

Shane didn’t even know how right he was. Not about Daryl being useless, or the cause of their grief. It was that word, that tiny little word that meant so much, the slur that Rick never thought twice about, but now couldn’t even voice in his own private head. Time was slowing down and moving backwards and Rick was analyzing every possible amount of information he had available, sifting through memories and information and coming to the same conclusion every time and god he couldn’t stop, he just wanted to stop thinking for a moment because this was unheard of, to survive to adulthood, this was considered an abomination, stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking.

Daryl wasn’t a werewolf.  
What was he then?

He started walking, away from Daryl, but part of him wanted to walk right up to him and hold him tight and bury his nose in Daryl’s neck and breathe in his scent and feel his skin and try to make sense of _what he was_. His mere physical existence was a modern day catastrophe, a clash of worlds that hadn’t meant to mingle in that way. It was _us and them_. It was ‘ _you and your people_ ’. Not _we_. Never both. Humans could join werewolf packs, they could have relations, but they couldn’t marry, and they couldn’t have children. They shouldn’t want to have children. The mere idea their relationship was considered extremely taboo in the first place, while not illegal.

Daryl was following him, talking quietly, probably trying to explain but Rick was too deep in thought to hear him.

His mind was full of dead children, culled because of their parents unlawful beastiality, most of them with warped bodies and failing organs due to the inherent incompatibility of man and man-beast.

He thought of Sophia.

He thought of Daryl, surviving.

“Rick! Rick just wait--”

“I’m not mad at you.” Rick finally stated, freezing in his tracks, “I’m not… mad at you.”

_‘I don’t know how I feel.’_

“If it makes you feel better, these days I hate myself more than you ever could.” Daryl breathed, eyes sliding shut, “It never used to matter, but now… ever since the bonds started…”

“Why didn’t you tell me though?” Rick asked desperately, though knowing full well why.

“What, tha' my father raped a human woman who died givin' birth to her blasphemous crossbred baby?” He spat, “I never used t' care, I could hate my father, I could hate my mother’s grave, but I never hated myself until you fucking people made me feel human and now I’m-- I’m--”

“Feeling human doesn’t have to be a bad thing.” Human blood doesn’t have to be dirty. Daryl shook his head, and Rick thought about the seizure, the uncontrolled skin shifting, his inability to notice Sophia. “Maybe you’re just going through an adjustment period. You’ve only ever known werewolves, you’ve only ever been bonded to werewolves. There’s a whole other part of you.”

“What if I don’t _want_ that part.”

“You’d rather have your father’s blood, than your mother’s?” He asked carefully, “Daryl I can’t… I can’t tell you that I agree you should have been...” ‘ _Conceived, born, either sounds like I wish he were dead.’_ “I can’t say that I agree with crossbreeding, consensual or otherwise. But your parentage is not your fault and you aren’t a monster, you’re my friend and I trust you and care for you just as much as I did before.”

Daryl nodded stiffly, as though he didn’t believe it, “If Shane knew I actually _am_ a misch, he’d execute me.”

Rick didn’t have a response for that, because deep down in his heart, he knew Daryl wasn’t wrong.

The thought of any of the group members knowing, save maybe Glenn and Carol, made his heart clench. Rick felt his possessive protectiveness over their friend softened the blow this new knowledge dealt to him, he wasn’t sure the others could share his ability to look past Daryl’s secret.

“Do you trust me, Daryl?” He asked quietly, gently placing his hand on Daryl’s arm. The wolf shuddered under the touch, but didn’t pull away.

“Yes.”

“You’re going to be ok.” Rick told him, with all the authority he could muster, “Trust me.”

Daryl ducked his head passively, rolling his shoulders into a submissive pose. Almost instinctively, Rick pressed his forehead against him, their proximity just short of in an embrace, “I’m your friend, ok?”

“Alright.” Daryl breathed, closing his eyes. They stayed like that for a few moments, just a couple of sad, lonely animals trying to figure out how to survive in a world trying to kill them. Rick could feel Daryl’s breath, could feel the life under his touch. This person, he wasn’t his father’s sin. He was life, survival, strength, compassion.

“You aren’t your father’s sin.”

 

* * *

 

Carol stood, leaning against the winnebago, watching the sun finally disappearing beyond the horizon, the sky a gradient of darkening blue to dissipating orange and pink.

She felt numb, alone, and broken. Childless. She’d created an identity for herself as wife and mother, she was no longer a wife, and now she was no longer a mother. She was nothing.

Before the next wave of sadness hit, she suddenly felt her heart swell with a fullness, a shadow of happiness making his home in her chest.

It wasn’t hers, it wasn’t her happiness, but it was there, she felt it, she could feel it. A couple fat tears dripped off the tip of her nose, but they weren’t necessarily tears of sadness. That small, foreign happiness that didn’t belong to her was building a nest for something new to grow and she knew, somehow, everything would somehow be ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jinkies scoob. holla at ur boi. 
> 
> chapter title from a wolf parade song.


	13. rebuild an empire.

**rebuild an empire. _chapter thirteen._**

_"I know you're coming in the night like a thief_  
But I've had some time alone to hone my lying technique  
I know you think that I'm someone you can trust  
But I'm scared I'll get scared and I swear I'll try to nail you back up."  
\- Jesus Christ by Brand New

 

Rick was gone. It seemed as soon as Daryl felt like he could accept the bonds, fully and indiscriminately, he had to sit back and let everyone leave. What else could he do? He didn’t have a single thread of control in the group, no one owed him, admired, or respected him. Everyone was leaving.

Carol didn’t even seem like a real person anymore. Wouldn’t even go to her own daughter’s funeral. The sickness in that, that after everything she was just going to shut down and ignore everything that had happened. ' _S_ _he died a long time ago_ ’ was a bullshit excuse coming from a broken woman who was too weak to face her dead daughter’s corpse. Deep down somewhere, he knew he couldn’t blame her, but the venomous punk he used to be reared it’s head and hated her for it. It was a selfish, brutal anger that overpowered any shred of emotional intelligence he had. To him, Carol was long gone.

And Rick and Glenn had gone after Herschel. One of the daughters had gone into shock, some kind of catatonic state, and the father had disappeared along with his medical skills and wisdom. Every time something right happened, something had to go wrong. One step forward, two steps back. Sanctuary on the farm, crisis over bonds. Acceptance of bonds, death of Sophia. Get accepted for the nature of his blood, lose the only people who accept him.

People were going and doing things and ignoring things and Daryl could feel the group shattering again, falling apart all over. Anger was burning his heart with white hot fire, and he took it out on the sticks he had in his hands, scraping his knife brutally across them like he was skinning them, carving them into bolts for his crossbow. Every time Rick or Daryl thought they had pulled the group together, it all falls apart again.

‘ _Fuck Rick_.’ Slash.

‘ _Fuck Carol._ ’ Slash.

‘ _Fuck Glenn._ Slash

He went on and on, through each person. Andrea, Lori, Dale, T-Dog, even Carl. He knew he was being dramatic, like a youth seeking attention. There were other things going on other than his angst and insecurity, but he couldn’t help it. These people were letting themselves fall apart.

He was letting them fall apart.

He was letting himself fall apart.

It’d been days since he last shifted, not since that night in the woods. Daryl hadn’t comfortable enough to, so scared of the strange goings on underneath his skin, in his joints, in his bones. He’d been feeling less and less like being stuck in a tight suit, like he’d finally stretched his human skin out to accommodate both halves of his werewolf nature, and pacified the human gifts his mother gave him.  

“Moving to the suburbs?”

That was Lori, walking up the hill, voice casual and calm. It was a foolish facade that he didn’t have time for, he could see past it and into the fear underneath her words. He didn’t respond, just jerked his knife and slivered off another hunk of wood.

She paused, “Listen, Beth’s in some sort of catatonic shock.” _No shit._ “We need Herschel.”

“Yeah, so what.” He grunted, eyes flashing.

“So I… I need you to run into town real quick and bring him and Rick back.”

He stopped, turning to look at her. He let himself meet her eyes, refusing to backdown or submit. She may be the mate of his alpha, but she’d gone to his hill, to his campsite, on his territory. “Your bitch went window shopping. You want ‘im, fetch ‘im yourself. I got better things t’ do.”

“What’s the matter with you? Why would you be so selfish?”

_He held me close and told me it’d be ok and now he’s gone and no one’s ok._

“Selfish? Listen to me, Olive Oyl. Don’t talk to _me_ about gettin’ my hands dirty.” His body was a taut, strung wire about to snap, “I was out there lookin’ fer that girl every. Single. Day.”

“Until you ran off and disappeared.” She retorted.

He bit his tongue, a growl creeping out of his throat, “Fuck you, you don’ know shit.”

“I know you’re not as tough as you make yourself out to be, Daryl Dixon.”

She turned and began walking away, and he was tempted to shout a final barb her way, some sharp comment, but let her go without a word. He felt her anger, her bitter disappointment in him. He could feel it in her words, in her body language, and to his disgust, through their bond as well. It was like being angry at himself but through someone else’s eyes.

He threw the knife and stick and down and stood up, throwing his fist at down at the ground hard enough to break skin, his knuckles coming away raw and oozing blood. Letting out a shaky breath, he focused on his own body, his own pain. He didn’t need anyone else’s emotions, his own were enough to drive him insane.

He trusted Rick, he couldn’t control that trust. He was his alpha, and moreover, perhaps a friend-- he trusted him, but he didn’t trust him to come back alive. He couldn’t put that much faith in _anyone_ anymore.

 

* * *

 

He could taste the moonlight on his tongue, sweet and dangerous.

Night had fallen and Daryl had remained on his hill, ignoring the events unfolding down below at the farmhouse. He wouldn’t be involved. No matter how many times he’d feel that twinge in his side, that sudden nausea, or those flashes of sudden emotion, all symptoms of those bonds strengthening inside him and keeping him hooked into the group… he refused to acknowledge them. He didn’t care if he knew that Lori had gone off on her own, tasting her determination as he spotted her headed toward the cars, and his sense of her slowly fading as she drove away. He didn’t care if he could feel Carl’s heartbreak over the loss of his friend in his gut, like someone was punching him over and over again, but still making him feel like a lost child all over again. He didn’t care if he could feel Carol suddenly experiencing a sharp, burst of anger, cutting through the monotony of her deep depression.

He didn’t care when he could sense her approaching him and his little bonfire, her stride more confident than he’d ever seen in her. The rage, in her eyes when he told her that Lori had asked him to go after Rick, but turned her down, was something so intense that he almost wanted to feel more of it.

But it slowly faded, or transmuted, or transformed… into desperation. Sadness. Fear.

“Don’t do this.” Carol begged, “Please?”

He stared into the fire, watching the flames lick up into the air as tiny figures dancing, waltzing, like elemental spirits having the time of their life. He didn’t want to be there. Anywhere.

“I already lost my little girl.” She continued into the silence, taking a breath. "I don't want to lose you too." 

“That wasn’t my problem neither.” He said bitterly, standing up. It was always the humans, them and their blood. As he left, he knew Carol had gone back to the group to tell them Lori had gone, because he could feel that child in him again weeping, the child Carl’s emotions dragged out into the open. His sadness was speaking to the pup inside Daryl that didn’t understand the world and was oh so scared.

‘ _Why won’t these people just leave me alone._ ’

It wasn’t their fault. The bonds wouldn’t leave him alone. He was sure the humans were experiencing some uncomfortable things through that two way street as well, and he hated that he was being made vulnerable in this way.

Hours past and no one spoke to him, but he knew they were feeling his whirlwind of mostly unidentifiable but intense emotion, his confusion and doubt and insecurity. He knew it because he could feel them, so by the nature of how bonds work, they must be feeling him. He knew meditation could cut the bonds off momentarily, but he didn’t have the skills or experience to reach that type of calm state.

He made a few attempts, as the night wore on and sleep seemed impossible. Focusing on his breathing, staring into the fire, letting himself sink into himself, into the ground, into a trance, but any moment of stasis he found was always short lived.

Finally, as he felt like maybe, just maybe he was almost there, letting the world become momentarily muted, the place in his chest where Carol lived started to burn and he knew she was approaching. Again.

He stood up, watching her intently as she made her way up the hill. Instinctively he pushed into the shadows of the trees, as though assessing a threat.

“What’re you doing?” He barked, startling her. She spun toward him, not backing down when he loomed over her.

“Keeping an eye on you.” She said simply, and Daryl smirked sardonically, pacing slightly back and forth in front of her like the wild animal he was, never breaking eye contact, shoulder square.

“Aint you a peach.”

The tension was more than palpable, it was suffocating.

“I’m not gonna let you pull away.” She said quietly, making him pause momentarily, eyes narrowing minutely, “You’ve earned your place.”

Her words made him feel hope for a second, maybe that was why he snapped so hard, so suddenly, wanting her to _hurt_ for that worthless hope.

“Maybe if you spent half your time minding your daughter’s business instead a’ stickin’ your nose in everybody’s else’s she’d still be alive!” He was near shouting, teeth bare. To her credit, Carol didn’t even flinch, never breaking eye contact with him, stock still.

“Go ahead.” She whispered, mouth tight.

“Go ahead an’ _what_ ?” He growled. She didn’t reply, and he fucking hated her. God he hated her, because he didn’t hate her and that made it hurt even more. Could she feel all this inside him? Was that why she was doing this? It made it worse, it made everything worse, the grieving mother coming to _him_ because she was worried about _him_ and god fucking damn her and her bullshit.

“Y’know what, just _go._ ” He shouted, waving his hand, “I don’t want you here!”

She still didn’t reply, playing her little game, or whatever it was she was doing. Holding his eyes with hers.

“You’re a real piece of work lady.” He got close to her, so close he could spit in her face just by speaking. She still said nothing. “What, are you gonna make this about m’ daddy or some shit like that? Man, you don’ know _jack shit_.”

She stood there, silent, absorbing. Absorbing his anger, his emotions, letting him let it out, because out of the two of them, maybe Carol _was_ the stronger.

He was too far, he was too deep, he was losing his hold on himself and he wanted to hurt her for doing this to him. He was weak, “ _You’re afraid._ You’re afraid cus you’re all alone. You got no husband, no daughter, you don’ know what to _do_ with yourself.”

She still didn’t even flinch, and he felt himself spin out of control, “You aint my problem! Sophia wasn’t mine! _All you had t’ do was keep an eye on her!”_

And she winced, making a noise of fear, not because of his words, but because he’d moved his hand back, twisting his body in a way he knew she knew intimately, knew what a volatile, angry man looked like when he might possibly strike someone. She’d reached her limit of what she could take, but he’d reached his almost the second she arrived.

He backed off, softening, because Carol was strong, and he was weak, and he’d scared her.

She took a breath, as though steeling herself for more, but Daryl had no more to give. He was empty, and down by the farmhouse, Lori was back.

“She’s pregnant you know.” He mumbled, staring at the fire. Carol still didn’t speak, but approached him slowly. Maybe she didn’t care. “Bet it’s Shane’s.”

“Daryl…”

“Rick aint comin’ back.”

“He will.” She whispered, “He always does.”

Daryl closed his eyes. His body was trembling and he hoped she didn’t notice, but knew she did. Neither spoke, and the silence was a little less threatening to him this time. It wasn’t a test, it wasn’t a game, it was just wordless space for them to occupy together for a few moments. He was sorry for the words he’d spoken, but he knew he’d never voice that apology. There are some things you can’t take back without looking like a fool.

“Did you know this would happen?” Carol asked softly, pressing a hand to her own chest, where Daryl’s regret was probably being felt, “Rick briefly told me about the… the bonds, and the rest of us picked up on it soon enough I suppose, but I wasn’t expecting the…” She gestured vaguely, “the emotional aspect of it. You hear stories, but I never thought…”

“Canines are emotional creatures.” Daryl grunted, “Always have been. Canine relationships are built on emotions.”

“How can a pack survive if the rest of us can’t… feel each other?” She whispered, “You feel all of us, and we all feel you, but we can’t feel each other.”

He shrugged, not looking at her. He didn’t know. He didn’t even know if this ever _was_ a pack, or just the result of one, desperate, lonely half breed werewolf. It certainly could never be one now.

He was sick of humans. All of them.

Without a second thought, he shed his skin, back bending and knees cracking and popping until Tsel’ had fully emerged, russet fur matted and unhealthy looking, but eyes bright and gold.

He stretched, paws feeling the ground fully for the first time in many days, muscles rippling and ears twitching as Carol nervously shifted her weight.

It was like someone had taken the bag off his head and he could finally see and feel the world again. The dirt, the air, the moon… he could smell the old wood burning in the fire, could hear mice rustling in the grass, but the one thing that didn’t change was the bond. If anything, he could sense Carol even more acutely, deeper, but at least his wolf instincts knew how to process the bond and how to process the feelings he had about it.

Animals were always better at dealing with emotions, and while his human thoughts and memories remained, his chemical makeup and instincts had changed slightly. His human predispositions dulled, and his wolf instincts intensified.  

He whined slightly in the back of his throat, and for once regretted not being able to speak in this form. The wolf could apologize to her for his earlier actions, but was incapable. 

She smiled anyway, and he knew she felt it.

 

* * *

 

Shane’s presence was making him bristle. His very aura was domineering and every action seemed to be an attempt to dominate him, with every roll of his shoulders and jerk of his chin.

Being near him was nauseating, but if working with the other alpha would bring Rick home, then Daryl would do it. He had to.

Besides, he could feel himself slowly stabilize. Lori’s nervous energy was powering him, Carol’s strong stance was grounding him, and Dale’s calm concern was humbling him. All he needed was the leader, and Shane couldn’t do it. Shane brought nothing to their group but danger. Shane _was_ danger.

He knew Dale could sense it, he may be the only other one intuitive enough to feel Shane’s chaotic need to own people, to control people. The older man was far smarter than they gave him credit for.

Daryl could hear him and Andrea arguing, and for once tried actually focusing on on the bonds. If he quieted his mind, stared at Andrea hard enough, watched her body language, let his instincts take over and let the bond become all he saw, heard, smelled, tasted… it was hard, his bond was Andrea was tenuous and built mostly upon her knowledge deep down that Daryl was the only reason she was still alive, whether she was grateful for it or not. All their interactions and conversations seemed to involve death and depression, which may be why it was so hard to let the bond tell him what he needed to know, but soon enough it came. Slowly, then all at once, he let himself fall into the wolf as far as he could without outright shifting and let the bond overpower him, and the information came.

Andrea was in love with Shane.

He recoiled in horror, but didn’t have time to compute exactly what that meant for him and the group, because she was walking toward them with more gear bags, possibly and hopefully oblivious to the knowledge Daryl had acquired.

And more important things were happening, because just as they were hauling the bags into the trunk of the car, the sound of a vehicle rounding the bend in the road met his finely tuned ears.

“Rick…” Daryl breathed, even _he_ wasn’t skilled enough to smell him for as far as the approaching car was, but he almost believed he could. That strong, musky smell so uniquely Rick’s.

The others turned to watch the car pull into the driveway, and Daryl didn’t care whether it was Rick’s emotions he was feeling or his own, because either way… it felt like coming home after a long trip, feeling the walls of your house for the first time in too long, that familiar smell in the doorway that you’ve become noseblind to until you’ve been gone a long time. Seeing Rick felt like coming home.

He knew, somehow, everything would be ok.


	14. judge, jury.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: violence, canon mentions of rape.

**judge, jury. _chapter fourteen._**

__

_"Cause I deserve displeasure_   
_And I really want to cry_   
_And I think you should spit in my face_   
_Because I am a werewolf"_

_-_ unicorn by AJJ

His knuckles still burnt when Dale made his way up the hill, Daryl watched him intently, knowing he was being scrutinized.

_Rick barely looked at Lori, as he held her in a quick embrace, but his eyes looking past her over her shoulder to where Daryl stood. Carl clinging to his other side, he let Lori go and took a few steps past her to clap his arm around Daryl’s shoulder, careful of his bandages, pulling him in close to rest his face near his neck, almost exactly as he had with his wife. He could feel Rick inhaling slightly, Alpha breathing in the scent of his packmate, before letting go of him as well._

_“It’s good t’ see you.” Rick said quietly._

_“Who the hell is that?” T-Dog interrupted, pointing past them back to the car._

_“That’s Randall.” Glenn said solemnly, looking at noone._

“Carol send you?” Daryl asked picking through scraps of wood in a pile. Dale scoffed,

“Carol’s not the only one that’s concerned about you… you’re new role in the group.”

He ignored him for a few heartbeats, also trying to ignore the dull pain in his fists, still crusted and scabbed over. Dale’s eyes were searing into him, with genuine worry along with his own disgust at the treatment of their prisoner.

_Rick had barely been back on the farm a whole day before he was heading out again, he and Shane, to bring Randall out and abandon him somewhere far away. Rick knew that the two alphas would clash, and awaited the possibility of only one returning._

_He prayed to God to the first time since he was a pup that Rick would be victorious and come back to him, to the group._

_Perhaps it was his prayer being answered that made him so willing to comply when both of them returned, and Shane asked him to interrogate their prisoner, to see what he knew and how big his group was. Using any means necessary._

_Maybe it was because he was a wolf that they asked_ him _, instead of someone else, or even thought of doing the dirty work themselves. That he was violent, savage, and had no qualms with torture. Or maybe that he was submissive to them, and would do as they asked. Or maybe they sensed his own, quiet devotion to Rick._

“I don’t need my head shrunk.” Daryl replied finally, turning to face Dale, “This group’s broken.”

 _He punched him again, feeling the kid’s cheekbone crack under his fist. Again, and again. He could also feel something in_ himself _break every time he hurt him, and yet somehow, it felt like this was what he was meant to do. This is what he was: an animal._

“You act like you don’t care.”

“Yeah, it’s ‘cus I don’t.” He pulled his jacket off of the tree nearby, shaking it out and shrugging it on, as Dale asked if he cared if Randall lived or died.

“Nope.”

_Daryl stared at the mess of a human before him, knife sticking out of the kid’s leg. He shook his head, shook the blood off his fist. He’d listened to his story, about his group, about the men who killed and raped without a second thought._

_This was a group the kid had stuck with, had let them brutalize young girls and done nothing to stop it or distance himself from it. Hell, maybe he’d even participated._

_When he returned to the group to relay what he’d gotten out of their prisoner, he could feel Carol staring at him, at the blood on his knuckles._

_Every time Shane and Rick fought, Rick would back down just as it got to a point where he could finally take Shane on as leader of the pack. Rick had too much respect for him._

“Then why not stand with me. Try to save the kid’s life, if it really doesn’t matter one way or another?”

“Didn’t peg you fer a desperate sunovabitch.” Daryl smirked, turning away from him, picking up his crossbow and bolts.

Dale paused, “You’re opinion makes a difference.”

He just gave a hoarse laugh, walking away, “Man, aint nobody lookin’ at me for nothin’.”

“Carol is!” Dale called after him, “A- And I am. Right now.” Daryl stopped, looking back at him with no expression, “And you obviously-- you have Rick’s ear.”

Daryl snarled, “Rick just looks to Shane. Let ‘em.”

When he started to walk away again, Dale raised his voice, “You cared about what happened to Sophia. Cared what it meant to the group.” he paused, “The _pack_.”

That caught him, and he once more looked back at the older man, eyes narrowed.

Dale continued, “ _Torturing people?_ That isn’t you! You’re a _decent_ man! So is Rick. Shane… he’s different.”

“Why’s that. ‘Cus he killed Otis?” Daryl smirked, Dale’s face morphing into shock, asking if Shane had told him. Daryl always knew that Dale knew the truth about that day too, “He told some story, how Otis saved his ass. Then he showed up with a dead guy’s gun. I could smell the guilt on the bastard. Rick aint stupid, if he aint figured it out it’s ‘cus he don’t wanna.” He frowned, turning away for the last time to leave,  “It’s like I said, group’s broken.”

There was a bitterness in his voice that he knew Dale could hear, sense, decipher.

 

* * *

 

Daryl lay in the grass, staring at the sky. So long as Shane was around, the group would remain turbulent, and their bonds would never fully form. The pack as he knew it would stay on the precipice of falling into nothing.

Rick couldn’t see it. He couldn't see what Shane was or what he represented. It would be their downfall.

If he turned his head, he could see Rick further down the hill, standing with Lori and Carl. No matter what the pack was or wasn’t, he’d always have his family and they’d always come first. He could remember Rick’s arm around his shoulder, though, his breath on his neck, mimicking his greeting to his wife perfectly. A small voice told him that the hierarchy of a pack was alpha, then the alpha’s mate. Clearly Shane wasn’t his mate, and clearly Lori didn’t uphold her second in command status.

That small voice reminded him that the only person left who could truly fulfill that position in the pack… was him.

 

* * *

 

 

“Shooting may be more humane.”

Like they’re putting down a dog. Daryl felt his stomach clench with nausea, the reality of what he was agreeing with coming clear. Some rabid dog, tied up in the barn. It could have been Daryl, it easily could have been him: dangerous, unstable, a liability. It could have been him, needing to be euthanized.

Dogs need to be controlled.

Daryl watched Shane’s face, the annoyance written in those lines and creases every time someone tried to come up with a reason not to kill the young man they held prisoner.

As they argued, he could feel his gut come apart. Emotions were running too high, his wolf instincts were becoming swamped with the constant barrage, and kept his comments to a minimum.

Valiant Dale’s increasingly impassioned speeches were the only thing vying to keep the kid alive that this point. While Daryl considered him to be smart, at least he had smart instincts, he wondered if the man was holding on hope for a world that had been dead a long time ago. Even in the twentieth century, justice was a lie. Humans and wolves alike were too racist, self important, and discriminatory to ever believe true justice could be enacted, let alone now when every single soul was simply trying to survive.

They would kill that kid, no matter what Dale said, because the group was scared and fear trumps justice and humanity.

As he passed Daryl, he leaned in and let his hand rest on Daryl’s shoulder, “This group _is_ broken."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, mostly exposition before I start in the next direction the story's gonna take (a more positive direction).
> 
> Thank you to all who've read and commented thus far!


	15. a shady grove where judas went to die.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: canon major character deaths, drug mention

**a shady grove where judas went to die. _chapter fifteen._**

_"See me now, I was another  
Mean and vicious, fast and clever  
See me now, you would not dream  
_ _The food I ate, the food that screamed"_  
- the year of the wolf by motorhead

Daryl was in the process of tying Randall up when he heard the scream, guttural and loud and almost inhuman but tinged with enough fear that could only come from man, from far away. He yanked the rope taught and grabbed the lamp nearby, knife in his clenched fist, and sprinted out the open door towards the field the sounds were coming from. It was the same place the sudden blood smell was now coming from as he neared.

‘ _No, not you. Not you. How can you be so easy to tear apart, you were so strong and resilient.’_

Out of everyone in the group Dale seemed like the only person death shouldn’t be able to touch. Everyone else was vulnerable, no matter how skilled with a gun, no matter how apt to survive, everyone was vulnerable. The mother, the child, the warrior, the weak, but not Dale.

He only ever wanted to save their humanity, he didn’t care about survival, he cared about _life._

Grabbing onto the walker that pinned the man down, Daryl impaled through the skull with his knife and then immediately lunged to Dale’s side.

“ _Help! Over here!_ Hurry!” He shouted, waving his arms at the people running towards them, he looked down at Dale, “Hang in there buddy.”

“Oh god, oh god…” Someone was crying, as people began crowding around. Rick slammed to his knees at Dale’s side, whispering comfortingly, “Dale, listen to me, it’s gonna be alright. Listen to me Dale, listen to my voice.”

It was too late, it was far too late for ‘ _it’s alright, it’s gonna be ok_ ’, he wasn’t going to make it. Blood was spilling all over the ground, the man was dying and in pain. Rick ordered for Herschel but they didn’t need a doctor to be able to tell that there was no hope. They all stood around him, watching in mute horror as the man they loved choked and sobbed in agony, as Herschel tried to talk Rick down from his distraught insistence that they try to save him.

“He’s suffering.” Andrea sobbed brokenly, “ _Do_ something!”

Rick did the only thing he could, he drew his weapon.

Holding his breath, Daryl watched him slowly aim the gun at Dale’s head, staring down at him with a face twisted in grief. He doesn’t move for a few long heartbeats, just standing still, frozen. Nobody moved.

Slowly, Daryl stepped up beside him and reached for his gun, wrapping his hand around his. Rick looked at him, eyes softening, as he gently took the weapon from him.

He would do this for his alpha, this painful task, not because he had to or was ordered to. It wasn’t done out of obedience or loyalty. It was done out of compassion.

Daryl knelt down beside the man, cocking the pistol and training it on Dale’s forehead, meeting his eyes now filled of acceptance. Dale was ready.

“I’m sorry, brother.” He whispered, and pulled the trigger.

 

* * *

 

 

“Dale could… could get under your skin. He sure got under mine. Because he wasn't afraid to say exactly what he thought, how he felt… that kinda honesty is rare. And brave.” Rick said slowly, measuredly. His heart was pounding, very unmeasured grief filling every aching inch of his body, “Whenever I’d make a decision, I’d look at Dale… he’d be looking back at me with that look he had. We’ve all seen it at one time or another. I couldn't always read him, but he could read us.”

He looked over at Daryl, meeting his eyes, “He saw people for who they were. The truth… who we really were. In the end he was talking about losing our humanity. He said this group was broken. The best way to honour him is to unbreak it. Set aside our differences and pull together, stop feeling sorry for ourselves. Take control of our lives. Our safety. Our future. We’re not broken. We’re gonna prove him wrong.”

‘ _I’m gonna prove_ you _wrong, Daryl._ ’ Rick thought quietly, “From now on, we’re gonna do it his way. We’re gonna do it the _pack_ way. Because that’s what we are, right? It’s what we’ve always meant to be. We may not all be werewolves…” That garnered a few, soft chuckles, “but we’re a pack, who loves each other, and I’ll lead you best I can.”

 

* * *

 

On one hand, things moved smoothly. The group began scoring up security around the farm, managing their defences, moving their belongings into the farmhouse, strengthening the bonds and trust between each other. On the other hand, tension had never been higher, as Shane leaned against the truck and stared with a hard look in his eye.

“We’re back to that now?” Shane scoffed, as Rick mentions Daryl and himself taking Randall out and cutting him loose.

“It was the right plan first time around. Poor execution.” The unspoken statement was clear: poor execution the first time, was why this time it was Rick and Daryl going, rather than Rick and Shane. “You don’t agree with it, but this is what’s happening. Swallow it. Move on.”

“You wanna take the wolf as your wingman, be my guest.” Shane said coldly, looking away.

Rick watched him, feeling resentful, “Thank you.”

“You got it.”

He turned and left, bristling with angry energy. He saw Daryl nearby, but purposefully avoided going over to him as not to stress him out with all his wayward emotions. Things were complicated enough as is.

Daryl was another complicated topic all together. He still hadn’t quite figured out how he felt about him, there was certainly a lot of intense feelings happening and he wasn’t sure which ones were platonic, which ones were born from admiration, and which ones were masquerading as other sentiments all together. He certainly admired the wolf, the half breed, for his courage, strength, and uniqueness. He was a skilled marksman and a good friend.

The further he drifted from Lori, though, the more he got confused about his feelings. Ever since he’d learnt of the pregnancy, he’d found himself finding it harder and harder to crawl in bed next to her at night. Perhaps it was some deep instinct telling him the baby wasn’t his, or some repressed feelings of betrayal at her having slept with Shane, or maybe the reason was Daryl.

He slowly packed up the last of his gear, and with the others, began walking back to the farm house with Herschel at his side. He was glad to see even Daryl slowly riding his bike up the house. The doctor was talking though, so he tuned in to listen, “I see why you’re not taking Shane with you. Just know I’ve got no more patience where he’s concerned.”

“He’s turnin’ over a new leaf.” Rick said sarcastically.

Herschel shook his head, sighing, “If you're staying here permanently, he's got to understand that it's what Rick, Daryl, and I say, not whatever he wants.”

Rick thought about Shane listening to Daryl’s orders… even the thought of Daryl giving orders was enough to be ridiculous. That just wasn’t the way he worked.

Though, even being constitutionally submissive in nature Daryl was no precious pushover pillow puppy who waited on his alpha’s every word. He’d heard of the stereotypical “sub bitch”, usually stereotyped as female or an effeminate male, always acting as though playing in a BDSM scene. It was a cliche generally created by humans and Rick had never heard of a wolf actually acting that way, but he’d seen the stereotype portrayed in films and shows constantly, a wolf girl blushing constantly with her eyes averted, panting as she waiting on her big strong alpha to tell her what to do. It was a way wolf discrimination crossed with misogyny and homophobia.

It was then, that he thought about ‘Penny Prickle’. It one of the few movies that touched on the topic of half breeds, the fact that it was a horror movie told enough about how they were thought of by the media and most of the population. In the dangerous and offensive film, a half breed named Penny manages to survive to adulthood, and becomes wrack with emotional problems like mood swings and unchecked rage, along with a whole host of physical deformities such as perpetually sharp teeth and long, twisted fingers.

Daryl had his own problems due to his heritage, though most of them seemed to manifest in his wolf form, with his small size and human eyes. He was lucky of course, he’d seen photos of young half breed children with horrific deformities such as practically pretzeled spines and failing organs engorged with blood that would have killed them eventually regardless of the cull. It made him wonder exactly how credible those photos were though. He wouldn’t put it past the government to lie about how hopeless letting mischling children live was, disguising bigotry with science and compassion.

He worked on unpacking his belongings, while simultaneously trying to unpack his compartmentalized thoughts about Daryl.

He heard Herschel and Lori talking outside, the older man offering her his bed and taking the couch himself.

“This is still your house.” She whispered, shaking her head.

He replied calmly, “It’s _our_ home.”

Rick stood up walking outside, watching her smile. It was good, to feel united, taking Herschel’s family into their own in this way. It felt right.

With a creak on the old steps, he noticed Daryl approaching with a map  ready to plot out where they would take Randall.

“You sure about this?” Daryl asked, laying the map out on the porch railing, “He could still find his way back.”

“We gotta take that chance. We can’t just kill him.” He replied softly, leaning over the map, watching Daryl lean over with him, studying the roads and towns with those sharp, analytical eyes of his. For a second, those eyes jump up to meet Rick’s, and he held his breath.

“Alright.” Daryl finally grunted, “So how far out do we take him?”

“Take him to Senoia-- hour there, hour back.” He added, “Give or take. We might loose the light, but by then we’ll be halfway home.”

Daryl straightened, nodding, “This little pain in the ass will be a distant memory. Good riddance.”

Rick nods, watching Daryl take a few steps then lean back against the porch railing, looking back up at him, “Are you ok? How have you been?”

The wolf frowned, jaw clenching, “Alright I ‘spose…”

Rick wanted to reach out and touch him, touch his neck, affirm he was there for him in the only way that deep instinctive voice told him he could. The more time he spent with Daryl, the easier it was to listen to those age old instincts that marked him an alpha in the first place, regardless that he was human.

He noticed Shane’s car driving up, and he glanced back to Daryl.

“That thing you did last night…” He started, but found he can’t find the words to thank him.

Daryl shrugged, “Aint no reason you should do all the heavy liftin’, alpha or not.”

Rick nodded again, watching Shane drive past, noting that the man pointedly avoided looking over at them and the house. How had things gotten so bad?

“So you good with all this?” Rick finally asked, still watching the car drive away, holding up the map.

He hears Daryl laugh a little, “I don’ see you and I tradin’ haymakers on the side of the road. Nobody’d win that fight.”

Rick smiles, “Werewolf versus human? Somehow I believe the odds would be in your favour.”

“You’re my alpha.” Daryl simply pointed out.

Daryl was looking at him intently, an unidentifiable look on his face. His lips were turned slightly upward at one corner, making his scars crease across his cheek. Rick reached across the small space between them without thinking and trailed his fingertips across the biggest scar, running just under his left eye.

“I never asked you about those.”

“I wouldn’ta’ told ya.”

Rick smirks, pulling his hand away, “What about now, will you tell me now?”

“Aint much to tell. These weren’t my pa, believe it or not. The rest were, but my face was Merle an’ his buddies.”

That stopped him, from what he’d heard and understood, Daryl loved his brother, “Merle did this?”

“It was an accident.  Let a moon drunk alpha snort a bunch of coke, get him riled up with his alpha friends, and you can’t expect to get away without gettin’ mauled.” The wolf seemed fairly nonchalant, “I pissed him off, somehow undermined his superiority in his mind, and he took it too far.”

“And you forgave him?”

Daryl gazed at him, eyes soft, “Sometime’s alphas do stupid things. It aint fully his fault.”

‘ _Aside from doing cocaine on a full moon._ ’ Rick thought bitterly, not being able to comprehend the thought process of someone so oblivious to the consequences of his actions.

For a moment he could imagine Daryl, young, inexperienced, trying to fight off his own brother enraged and intoxicated with drugs, moonlight, and alpha hormones. Cowering back, trying to protect his vital organs from the brutal claws coming down on him. Of course in reality, Daryl had probably fought back ruthlessly against the alphas swarming him.

“Merle’s got a few scars from that night as well.” Daryl murmured, and Rick could feel him almost… _nudging_ the tentative packbond between them, “I gave almost as good as I got.”

Before Rick could reply, or further investigate this new feeling coming through the bond, he was cut off by shouts coming from the barn. T-Dog was yelling, and the others were flocking towards him.

Rick gave a jerk of his head for Daryl to follow, the two made their way over as fast as they could. He soon realized what the problem was, why everyone was in a panic.

Randall was missing.

“The cuffs are still hooked…” He murmured, “He must have slipped them.”

“The door was secured from the outside.” Herschel pointed out, glancing at T-Dog, “Said it was still locked.”

It was then that Shane voice could be heard from the forest, shouting Rick’s name. The man came striding forward, a brilliant shade of red gushing from his nose, “He’s armed! He’s got my gun!”

Rick noticed Daryl start to growl slightly, like a guard dog noticing something’s wrong. He was certain at first that it was because of Randall armed and on the loose, but as Shane neared, he knew that wasn’t it.

“Little bastard snuck up on me.” Shane stated, voice gurgling on the blood dripping into his mouth, “Clocked me in the face.”

Pushing aside his instincts telling his something was off, he quickly delegated roles to everyone, ordering people back to the house, assigning a search team.

He had to take Shane at his word. The man had been his partner at one point, working together, being able to _trust_ each other. He had to trust him now, with the entire pack’s life in their hands.

He, Shane, Daryl, and Glenn started to make their way into the trees, following Shane as he told them where he’d seen the kid run off.

“Can you track him?” Rick asked Daryl, who was inconspicuously sniffing the air.

“Can’t see nothin’, can’t smell much either.” He glanced at Glenn and quickly pulled off his shirt to prepare to shift, but stopped when Shane started shouting again, baring his teeth at the man.

“Hey, look, aint no use in trackin’ em. He went that way. We  just need to pair up, we spread out.” Shane was growing more and more agitated, “We just chase ‘em down. That’s it.”

“Kid weighs a buck-25 soaking wet. You tryna tell us he got the jump on you?” Daryl growled, stalking in a circle around Shane.

As Shane started to retort, Rick cut him off, getting between them, “Alright, alright, knock it off.”

In the end, they did split up at Shane’s suggestion. Maybe it was because Rick wanted to give him a chance to prove he wasn’t lying, to prove he was still the friend and partner he once knew and trusted, that he paired up with him.

Daryl gave Rick once last look before starting to shift into his other form, slowly morphing from biped to all fours. He let out a soft whine, licking his lips nervously, before padding after Glenn. Rick watched the two disappear into the trees.

The night was growing dark, and Rick could feel something inside him growing as they walked through the trees. Some strange thing masking itself as… determination? The further they walked, the more Rick knew what was happening.

Shane’s stride, his steady breath, he was preparing for something.

They both slowed to a stop and Shane looked back at him, and Rick met his gaze readily. For two humans, they would break each other like wolves.

Continuing on, Rick could feel the tension start to build. It was coming, he could feel it in his fingers, his chest, in the roots of his teeth. He followed Shane on, for what felt like hours but could only have been another ten or fifteen minutes or so, and all the while the tension grew.

“This way feel right?” He asked quietly, eyes dark.

“Right as any.”

Rick’s jaw clenched, “Snatched your gun, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Shane beckoned him on ahead, as though letting him take the lead, but Rick knew what it really was. An exposed back for him to stab. He walked on, feeling Shane take up the rear as they neared a clearing, a field.

Rick kept talking, “You say he got you with a rock?”

“That’s what I said.” Was the soft, but dangerous sounding reply.

“Inside the shed?” He asked, and when he found no response, he continued, “Cus that door was shut when T-Dog rolled up.”

“I saw that too.” Shane had stopped walking, “Must’a slipped through the rafters in the roof.”

Rick stopped as well, and didn’t turn around. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He slipped his gun into his holster, “So this is where you planned to do it?”

“It’s as good a place as any.” Shane echoed his earlier response, almost with humour. Rick slowly turned to face him, anger and self righteous rage bubbling up.

“At least have the balls to call this what it is…. Murder.” Rick started to pace, and Shane started walking as well, circling each other, “You think they’ll believe you, walking up to that farm alone… those folk aint stupid. They know what you are, what you’re capable of.”

“I saw that prisoner shoot you down.” Shane casually started, “I ran after ‘em, snapped his neck. Lori and Carl, they’ll get over you eventually. They know I’m stronger, more capable than you. Those wolf mutts got one thing right at least, forming packs with a leader. I’m the leader they need. I’m the _alpha_ they need!” He shouted the last part, spittle flying from his mouth.

“Without Daryl, you won’t _have_ a pack. He’s all that’s keeping the bonds alive. You think he’ll follow you?” Rick scoffed, “Can you even _feel_ the bonds, Shane?”

The man sucked in a deep breath, shifting his weight from one foot to another, cocking his gun.

Rick shook his head, “I know you… you won’t be able to live with this.”

The night was too quiet, even the almost full moon was tucked away behind the clouds, leaving the field dark and silent.

“You don’t know shit about what I can live with.” Shane snarled, “You don’t know what I can do-- let’s talk about what you can do Rick, here I am!” He holstered his weapon, raising his hand up to the sky in a mockery of surrender, “Come on man, raise your gun!”

Rick shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment, “No.”

“What kind of leader are you? What kinda alpha won’t fight for his place in the pack? We’re _all_ animals out here now, Rick. We may be one-skinners, but we aint human no more.” Shane’s smile was as feral as his words, “You gotta fight for them Rick. _Raise your gun!_ ”

“You’re gonna have to kill an unarmed man.” Rick whispered, reaching slowly for his gun, “Watch my hand, nice and easy.” As he moved, he thought about Daryl, about Carl, about the pack back home. He pulled out his gun, holding it out non-threateningly, inching towards him, “We can still go back from this. We put down our weapons, and walk home together.”

He thought about the terrified look in Daryl’s wet eyes when he revealed the nature of his blood, the trust he had in him, the _faith_. Rick would come home, Rick would come home from this.

He got closer, just an arm's length away from Shane, never breaking eye contact. Arm pushing out, handing his gun to the man who he once considered his best friend, other hand creeping back behind to palm the handle of his knife.

In one quick movement, he plunged the blade into Shane’s chest, as a gunshot fired past him into the still night.

God, the gurgling, blood immediately welling up at Shane’s lips, “ _Damn you for making me do this Shane._ ” He sobbed, jerking the knife deeper into his friend, “You did this to us, this was you, not me! Not me!”

He wondered if Daryl could feel it, could feel this. The agony, the power, the grief, the triumph. This had be so long in coming, but he could feel the most heart wrenching regret curling up in his throat choking him slowly.

“It had to be done.” A voice murmured from behind him, and he jerked around to find Daryl and Carl standing near the edge of the field.

“It didn’t.” Rick said hoarsely, “It never should have happened.”

He didn’t look at Carl, he couldn’t. He knew the boy saw Shane as a second father, that he loved him. Oh how he must look, standing with Shane’s blood literally on his hands, dripping. “How’d you know where… where to find me.”

Daryl glanced down at Carl at his side, then back to Rick, “Found Randall, dead, broken neck. Lori sent me and Glenn after you, and found Carl following you.” Suddenly, Daryl froze, opening his mouth to taste the air.

Carl’s gun, the gun the boy had stolen from Daryl, was pointed straight at him. Rick almost felt relieved, like this is who it should happen, this is how he should die. He didn’t moved, just closed his eyes.

The gunshot didn’t hit him, just Shane’s reanimated corpse.

“We gotta move.” Daryl didn’t give him to process what just happened, grabbing Carl and shoving him at Rick, “Take’em back to the house Rick, run.”

“What’s going on?” Carl asked, trembling in his arms, “What’s going on?”

Daryl shook his head, shoulders rippling, “Shane aint the only walker here.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title reference to 'cry for judas' by the mountain goats


	16. tasting the moon.

**tasting the moon. _chapter sixteen._**

_"By the cold dull moon_  
_Blood-red desire_  
_It was the wolf in me_  
_I howled the cold night through_  
_The year I ran as a wolf_  
_Tonight the food is you."_  
-in the year of the wolf  
by motorhead

Daryl had never felt more alive.

His muscles pumped as he raced across the farm, howling an eerie, echoing wolfcry into the night, drawing the hoard in around him like it was his one purpose in life. The others were fighting as best they could, using their vehicles to crush and kill as many as possible when their frail bodies couldn’t. It was a harsh reminder of their impotent human vulnerability, but he could feel them, living and fighting to survive.

He could feel their lives, their being, the energy rushing out creating a web connecting each of them together. At the center was Rick, leading them through the carnage, his face illuminated by the flickering flames of the fire engulfed barn.

Werewolves always joked that while they and humans shared a common ancestor, humans were overly domesticated by their way of life. There was nothing domestic about his human packmates now, these people were as wild as the most vicious secluded wolves of the Russian wilderness. Covered in blood, shouting like a snarl, these were his people and he’d protect them with his dying breath.

His fur was matted with carnage, claws caked with blood, mouth filled with acrid copper. He howled again, jaws wide and teeth glinting in the firelight.

It was his duty to protect these people from themselves, too.

Sometimes humans just don’t know when to give up, and he loved them for it.

They were fighting a losing battle. The fire had near consumed the farm, creeping towards the house, every space that wasn’t occupied by flame was home to hundreds of walkers.

T-Dog, Lori, and Beth had already begun their retreat, driving off in the SUV. He prayed them safe departure.

His backpack with a set of clothes was slung over his motorcycle, parked beside the farmhouse. 

Shedding his skin, he stretching out into his human form, well aware he’d not be able to shift back again until he recovered his strength but knowing there were some things he couldn't do as a wolf.

“This is my farm, I’ll die here.” Herschel’s voice carried, firing shot after shot at the ever growing swarm of dead ambling it’s way to the farm house.

“Your farm is on fire.” Daryl said calmly as he approached, and for the first time he could feel Herschel’s intimate pain, reading his emotions as well as any of his pack. “You’re one of us, you aren’t dying here tonight.”

The veterinarian stared at him, chest heaving. Daryl angled his shoulder and tilted his head, baring his neck to the older man in a sign of respect. Herschel may have harboured distrust of werewolves in the past, but he knew enough that this was an important gesture.

“This is my home.” He said desperately, gasping for air, but slowly lowering his shotgun.

“We’ve all lost our homes. We’ll make a new one.”

They watch Maggie and Glenn drive off after the truck, finally realizing what they’d all come to realize, the battle for the farm was lost.

With the scent of death all around, Daryl almost missed the walker sneaking up behind them, just as Rick exploded out of the fray like the flaming archangel Michael and slashed open it’s face, then pierced it straight through the eye.

“Carl and Carol just left, we’ve got to get out.” The alpha spoke, sheathing his knife.

Daryl nodded, “You two take Otis’ truck, I’ll follow you on my bike.”

“Too dangerous, you might get swarmed. We’ll drive together.”

“I can’t leave the bike…” Daryl insisted, “It was Merles. I can’t leave it.”

Rick gave him a contemplative look, then nodded slowly, “Be careful.”

“I will--”

“Daryl, please be careful.” Rick drew closer, reaching out to wrap an arm around his friend’s shoulders, nestling his face in the crook of Daryl’s neck, “Please.”

A wave of calmness washed over him, and he nodded. As Rick drew back, there was a look in his eyes, dark and intense. It was a look Daryl recognized from Merle’s many girlfriends, when they’d look at his brother with their smouldering eyes.

“Rick, I--”

“Hurry, Daryl. We’ll meet by the road.” He handed Daryl his knife, fingers lingering where their hands touched.

He didn’t want to leave, not with that look in Rick’s eyes, boring him down, but he simply nodded and pulled himself over the porch rails, dropping down to creep past several walkers.

Within the minutes since he'd left it, walkers had flooded the area. His bike just a few feet away, but without his wolf skin, he wasn’t sure he’d make it. The swarm was starting to surround the house, and there was only so much good a knife could do. It was Merle’s bike, though, he owed it to his brother.

A walker launched at him, but he quickly carved off it’s head, and narrowly avoided another’s erratic attacks. He was getting closer, but his progress was achingly slow. There were just too many walkers, there was no room to mount the bike.

In a quick decision, he shoved the bike as hard as he could, watching it topple over several walkers who grunted and growled, weak joints popping and cracking under the machine’s weight.

He stabbed another walker through the eye and began pulling up on the bike, trying to right it, while becoming surrounded by the approaching dead.

The sound of an engine roared through the air, and the truck came barrelling towards him, crushing walkers under its tires.

“Grab the bike.” Rick shouted, shooting down walkers as Herschel let the engine idle.

“What?”

Rick opened his door and slid out, coming to Daryl’s side, gesturing to the back of the pickup.

Together they hauled the bike up and onto the truck, securing the tailgate just as the walkers were close to running them over.

They managed to fight their way back up to the cab, Daryl sliding into the middle with Herschel in the driver's seat and Rick in passenger, window open to lean out and fire into the herd, trying to clear them out to give them room to maneuver the truck.

After a few minutes of k-turning and shooting down walkers, they managed to pull out and onto the road. Looking over, Daryl saw Herschel watching the blazing farm slowly get smaller and smaller as they drove off, his entire life going up in flames.

In silence they drove for a few minutes, the only sound being their heavy breathing and the roar of the engine. Daryl didn’t know where they were going, he had lost all connection to the rest of the pack save for the two men in the truck with them. It felt a little like sensory deprivation, not being able to feel all those lives surrounding them.

But being so close to Rick, watching his teeth grind and eyes flick back and forth between the rearview mirror and side mirror, he knew suddenly where he was taking them.

“To the highway, where we lost Sophia.” Daryl murmured, “That’s where we’re going, isn’t it. You think they’ll be there?”

“I think so.” Rick nodded, “I can… feel it.”

Humans may not have the intuition of a wolf, but with the bonds starting to finally reach their full potential, even Rick could begin to trust his instincts.

“They’ll be there.” Daryl finally nodded, “They’ll feel it too.”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t long before he felt Carol’s grief and sadness, and Glenn’s fear, and Lori’s impatience. The vehicles were approaching, and the closer they got, the stronger the bonds felt in the back of his mind.

“They’re coming.” He murmured, leaning against the truck, Rick at his side. “All of them. They’ll be here soon.”

“My daughters?” Herschel asked hurriedly, frowning.

“Maggie left with Glenn, and Beth left with Lori and T-Dog.” Daryl assured him, he couldn’t sense the girls yet, while he’d become close enough to Herschel to begin to feel the man’s presence in that hollow part of his soul, the daughters were still strangers to him. Perhaps that would change in time, there was room in his aching heart for more.

Daryl glanced at Rick, who’d been silence so far. His eyes were shut, looking relaxed but Daryl could sense the chaotic thoughts running through his alpha’s head.

“Rick?”

“Hm?”

“Ya a’right?”

“I’m fine.”

Daryl inched closer, letting his arm press against Rick, leaning ever so slightly against the man. It was comforting to be close to him, that physical assurance that Rick was alive and his heart was beating, because he could feel his blood pumping.

He felt pressure where Rick leaned back against him.

“What are we gonna do?” Daryl asked quietly, “Once we’re all back t’gether, where we gonna go?”

“I… I don’t know.” Rick whispered, opening his eyes to peer quietly over at the wolf, “I don’t know.”

“You scared?”

“A little.”

Daryl nodded, “I trust ya, Rick. We all do.”

“That’s what I’m scared of.”

The sounds of an engine met Daryl’s sensitive ears. It would be a few minutes before they arrived, but the concrete evidence of his pack’s survival was enough to ease some of the anxiety.

“Rick?”

“Yeah?”

Herschel turned away from them, climbing back into the truck. Daryl wondered if he’d felt the thick, suffocating air that was choking him.

“I trust you.”

Rick turned slightly, so he could face Daryl. He didn’t speak, but leaned in, so his face was inches away. So that his lips were inches away. It wasn’t that Daryl hadn’t thought about it, it was impossible not to, but now with his alpha’s mouth so close he wasn’t sure if he could do it.

Instead, Rick leaned in and kissed the top of Daryl’s head, arms wrapping around him tightly, “I’m glad you’re alive, Daryl.”

That was enough. For the moment, being close to him and feeling his heart thud against his own was more than enough to ease that wretched, suffocating fear and insecurity. As the cars pulled up beside them, Rick slowly pulled away, only slightly, only to rearrange their bodies in a half embrace with his arm pulled around Daryl’s shoulder like a promise.

For a moment, Daryl felt himself disappear a little. Like he’d faded off into a dream, watching all these people reunite, drawn in by these terrible wonderful bonds. Their smiles, their laughs, the tears in their eyes. These were his people, he could feel them, their hearts, all of their hearts were beating in time with each other.

It was raw. It hurt. It was healing. It was a scab. A scar. A wound. It was pure. It was kind. It was his.

‘ _It’s mine.’_ He thought to himself, blinking.

Then, as Lori embraced her husband, a second thought, ‘ _h_ _e’s mine.’_

Rick was his alpha, and he had to remind himself that the possessive nature of their relationship ended there. He was the leader of the pack, of the pack Daryl himself had birthed with his tenuous werewolf blood, but that was the extent of it. He and Rick gave birth to this pack, but Lori was his wife.

Lori was his wife. He would repeat that over and over again so that his heart would stop forgetting it, in those brief moments where Rick’s breath ghosted Daryl’s neck or his hand clutched his shoulder, his lips touched his forehead.

Words filtered in through his ravenous thoughts, “We’re the only one’s who’ve made it so far.”

That was Rick, and his calm, careful words.

“Shane?” His wife, always thinking about the other man she’d loved.

Daryl watched Rick shake his head slightly, eyes to the ground. Blood splattered grass, moonlight so full and bright so ready to burst into a full moon, watching that man die with his friend’s knife in his chest.

“Andrea?” Glenn asked cautiously, glancing around their shattered, bloodied group.

“She saved me then I lost her.” Carol murmured.

T-Dog spoke solemnly, “We saw her go down.”

The list of the dead grew, Patricia, Jimmy, more people lost to the savage world they lived in.

“But did you _see_ Andrea?” Carol, so desperate to hold onto the fragile threads. There was an insistence there that surprised Daryl though, something that wasn’t quite desperate, closer instead to a belief.

“There were walkers everywhere.” Lori shook her head.

“But did you _see_ her?”

T-Dog looked away, unable to truly confirm.

‘ _What do you feel, Carol?’_ Daryl frowned, watching the woman. The mother. A mother’s instinct could rival even that of a werewolf’s at times, and even if her child was dead, those instincts lived on.

“I’m goin’ back.” He finally said, but Rick grabbed at him.

His alpha voice rang out true and clue, “No.”

It was one of the first times he heard a true command, one laced with intention and self awareness.

“We can’t just leave her…” Daryl took a moment before meeting Rick’s eyes, tasting the bond on his tongue, looking for something in those dark eyes.

“We don’t even know if she’s there.” Lori insisted, and Rick quickly confirmed.

“She isn’t there. She isn’t. She’s somewhere else, or she’s dead. But there’s no way to find her.”

They were still staring at each other, not confrontationally, never that. It was just contact. A connection. Daryl tasted cardamon on his tongue.

In the end, the decision was to head east. The sun had barely risen over the treetops, warm morning light flooded the bloodstained road. The day was new and fresh, so they climbed into their vehicles and they traveled. They moved on.

From his motorcycle, Daryl turned to watch the spot where Sophia had left, slowly growing smaller and small in the distance behind him.

Rick, in the vehicle ahead of him, was a steady, pulsating light to follow while the sun slowly rose in the sky. When afternoon came and the sun was at it’s brightest, Rick still shone brighter, and they traveled on. When noon aged and grew tired, and melted into evening, Daryl followed the bond and the taste on his tongue through the backroads and forests.

When the cars ran out of gas, and they had to stop, set up camp, worn, weary, ready to crackle and break and snap at each other, Daryl parked his bike, and watched Rick stand tall and try to keep the world around them from falling apart.

When the truth came out, that it wasn’t just the bitten that could turn, that they were all infected with a bloody afterlife, Daryl stood by Rick and focused on the bonds, listening to all the turbulent thoughts racing through those carefully created connections, and sent out one single emotion out to all of them: trust.

Trust Rick.

When night came, and they sat down at the campfire, Daryl stared up at the sky. The moon was full. She was here, alive, he’d been waiting for her to show her face. The full moon, the mother, beaming down on him, giving him her blessing.

“We’re not safe with him.” Carol whispered to him, “Keeping something like that from us.”

Daryl continued to stare at the sky, unwilling to tear his eyes away from the one mother who never left him.

“Why do you need him?” Carol continued, “He’s just gonna pull you down.”

“No. Rick’s done alright by me.” He said quietly, knowing his eyes were fully blue, not a touch of gold to be seen. The blue of the moonlight was flooding his veins, and despite the wolf in him howling out to the sky, his blue eyes were his birth mother’s and the moonlight was kissing them.

“You’re his henchman.” She murmured bitterly, “And I’m a burden. You deserve better.”

“What do you _want_?” He asked, blinking, finally looking away from the moon.

“A man of honor?”

“Rick _has_ honor.”

Daryl stood, exhaling slowly, moving away from the fire. He’d had enough of firelight, he’d watched a new home get eaten by it. The light he wanted, yearned for, he could find deeper in the forest where he was only bathed by moonlight.

And from in here, where it was dark but light, he could listen. Listen to the group fight, here from the sidelines were it didn’t hurt so much. Trust Rick.  
It was a divide. It was turbulence. It was another two steps backward, like always, every time they tried to move forward. One step forward, two steps back. Trust Rick.

“No one is going anywhere.” Rick insisted, face cast with two colours, fire and moon, gold and blue. Firelight and moonlight.

“Do something.”

“I _am_ doing something! I’m keeping this group together. Alive. I’ve been doin’ that all along, no matter what. I didn’t ask for _this._ ”

‘ _Did I force this upon you? With the blood that I only half know, did I force this position on you? Or is it just circumstance. Or is it just you. Is this just your nature? To protect, to lead?’_

“I killed my best friend for you people for christ sake.”

‘ _Did I do that too? Forcing two alphas to clash, to fight for leadership that shouldn’t have been anyone’s to take? Forming a pack that needed one of you to die?’_

“You saw what he was like. How he pushed me, how he compromised us, how he threatened us.”

Daryl exhaled slowly, listening to Rick speak, voice loud and clear. He was an alpha right now, speaking to his pack. Taking control.

The pack was breaking apart, Daryl hoped this wasn’t going to break them further. They had to understand that stability, concrete stability, was what they needed. _Trust Rick._ Carl was crying, Lori pulled tight around him like a shield, distrustful of the man she called husband. _Trust Rick._

“Maybe you people _are_ better off without me. Go ahead.” Rick said quietly, but with confidence, “But I say there’s a place for us.”

The full moon was singing. They couldn’t hear it, with their deaf, human ears, but Daryl could. She was singing sweetly, softly, but with a power that none of them could ever understand fully. It was the song that his people had sung for eons, the song his cousins sang, his ancestors back before humans could walk sang it over empty mountains up to the sky. Daryl hummed quietly in his throat, singing along.

“This isn’t a democracy anymore.” Rick said with finality, and turned away from the fire.

‘ _Are you coming into the darkness-light with me? Into the forest where the full moon can never get brighter?’_

Daryl watched him approach, knowing the man couldn’t see him. Headed away from the campfire, away from the pack, probably looking to find silence where he could process his own thoughts and emotions. Daryl wished Rick could hear the moon singing, that it was no more silent out here.

“Rick.” He called out, “Come here.”

Rick froze, finally spotting Daryl’s figure among the trees. He slowly neared, eyes unreadable. He could read his heart though, through the bond.

“Daryl.”

“Can you hear her?”

Rick frowned, confused. He must have been expecting a comment on his earlier statements, some extrapolation on his taking command, not this non-sequitur.

“Who?”

Daryl jerked his chin, gesturing up to the sky.

“Oh. I hadn’t… I hadn’t realized it was a full moon.” Rick looked up, eyes softening, “I may just be a human, but apparently even a human alpha can get a little moondrunk, huh.”

“Full moons do strange things to all creatures. The moon affects the tides, our bodies are mostly water, it pulls at us. What you did wasn’t strange though, Rick.”

Rick sighed a little, now looking back at Daryl, who still stared up at the sky with blue eyes. The werewolf slowly started humming, quiet, soft, sweet, powerfully. He wanted Rick to hear her.

He grasped Rick by the collar of his grey button up, and pulled him closer, singing softly and breathily, moonlight rushing through his veins and through his lungs and throat. This was his night, the night of the wolves.

They were inches apart, Daryl was practically singing into Rick’s mouth. He just wanted him to hear. He wanted him to hear her.

Their lips met.

Daryl had never felt more alive.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's been awhile. 
> 
> long story short, for various reasons i have a lot of time on my hands right now. i just edited this entire story, fixing some minor errors, improving word flow, etc. 
> 
> it took sixteen chapters to give this wolf boy a kiss, it's not over yet.


	17. the one you touch.

**the one you touch. _chapter seventeen._**

 

 _"You're a werewolf and I'm a full moon_  
_All your very worst enemies be gone soon_  
_I think you're changing_  
_Don't worry, you don't got to stay the same."  
_ \- be nice to me by the front bottoms

 

Rick stared into those painfully blue eyes, shining bright as the moonlight casting shadows over that rough, scarred face. Despite the pockmarks, dirt, and creases -- the jagged planes of his cheekbones and sharp edge of his jaw -- the ragged craters and roads of scars across his cheek where claws had driven -- he looked soft.

His lips tingled, still dry from the closed mouth, chaste kiss. He wanted to wet them.

‘ _This isn’t fair.’_ His thoughts were racing, ‘ _This isn’t fair, my wife… my pregnant, scared wife is sitting at that campfire behind me.’_

Daryl was gazing silently at him, perhaps through him, still humming softly. It was a slow and sweet song, and for a moment Rick wished he too could hear the moon like the wolf could. Maybe she would help ease the anxiety and confusion in his heart, could help him feel as calm and peaceful as Daryl looked.

“You were meant to lead. I trust you.” Daryl spoke finally.

‘ _What was that kiss? A gesture of submission, like a dog licking his alphas mouth? What are your intentions, Daryl?’_  

“Do you?” Rick said warily, Daryl’s eyes weren’t meeting his, they were fixed lower. Submissive? His eyes were at his mouth. Or seductive?

It was difficult to navigate this strange situation, he wanted to believe in those new instincts Daryl’s bond had helped him hone, those primal notions that told him this was neither submission nor seduction.

Daryl trusted him.

“I do.”

At the wolf’s words, Rick nodded slowly, sighing even slower. He let all the air push out of his lungs. Exhaustion hit him suddenly, nearly toppling him over with it’s force. He wanted to lay down in the soft grass and sleep. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see the flicker of firelight through the trees. The group would be getting ready for sleep soon, and would put out the fire for the night.

“Let’s stay here for a little bit.” Rick murmured, looking back to those blue eyes, watching them shine gold for a split second -- split like an atom, exploding hot and dangerous.

Daryl moved to sit, long legs folding underneath him. Rick followed in suite, watching Daryl gaze up through the trees to the pregnant moon.

‘ _Lori.’_

He wondered if Daryl could smell her carried child, could sense just as Rick could that he hadn’t fathered it. Shane may have died, but he’d left a piece of himself behind.

“Lori will be giving birth in a wasteland.” Rick whispered, almost missing the flash of pain almost as bright as gold in Daryl’s eyes. ‘ _Discussing my wife with a man whose lips just touched mine… what did that kiss mean, Daryl? What did that kiss mean?’_

“New life’s ‘mportant.” His voice was gruff, but soft.

“New life…”

“Carl deserves a sibling, needs someone t’ take care of.” Daryl murmured, “Kids are all the world’s got left.”

‘ _I’m so selfish.’_

“You’re right.”

Daryl shrugged, “You’ll love the kid, it don’ matter who the father is, or even who the mother is.”

‘ _I’m so selfish.’_

“Lori doesn’t trust me anymore.”

“She will.”

“She’s scared of me.”

“Rick…”

“You can sense these things. I know you can. Does she still… does she still love me?” ‘ _I’m so selfish.’_

Daryl didn’t reply, body warm and gentle at his side. They both lay back in the grass, moon so full and bursting, hanging in the sky above their heads. He’d always thought of moonlight as being cold, but Daryl was showing him how warm it could be. It felt like… it felt like meeting Daryl’s mother. Like being taken home for the holidays, staring up at the full, loving face of the being who birthed the man he called companion.

A gentle wind blew through the trees, rustling leaves and bramble. It tossed Daryl’s growing hair, he remembered when it was cropped so unnaturally short for a werewolf -- creatures who grew their hair out long and free as a symbol of their pride. Both the Dixons had kept their hair cut short, Rick remembered being surprised to see Merle’s appearance when he first met the alpha wolf, so conservative. He wondered how long their father’s hair had been.

The ground was starting to chill him, but he remained at Daryl’s side, watching stray clouds pass through the sky, briefly dappling them with shadows.

“She’ll always love you.” Daryl finally murmured, “She swore a vow, when ya married. Even if that vow’s all that keeps her lovin’ you, it’ll never die.”

“Does she wish she could stop?”

“I’m not a mind reader, Rick.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’ be.” He glanced over, “She loves you. It aint the same like it was, an’ it never will be again, but she loves you.”

“Did she….” Rick paused, ‘ _h_ _e’s not a mind reader.’_ “Did she love Shane?”

Soft, quiet, gentle silence.

“There’s room in a heart... to love two people.”

 

* * *

 

 

There was no room beside Lori to sleep. The fire had long gone out, Glenn on watch with a shotgun in hand. Lori had Carl pulled up tight to her chest, back flush with Maggie’s where she hugged her sister close.

It wasn’t just that the space was occupied, it was that it just… wasn’t there. There was no room for him. His place beside her didn’t exist anymore.

Daryl was watching him from where he’d hunkered down near Glenn. He felt put on the spot, standing dumbly, staring down at his wife and son. Some confident leader he was.

With a sigh, he stepped over their sleeping forms and found himself a spot near to their gear and supply pile, pulling a spare blanket out to pull around himself. Thoughts of cars, fuel, and shelter crossed his mind in quick succession. They’d run out of food soon, and they couldn’t last out here so exposed. They had no working vehicles, no tents, and only the supplies that had already been in the cars they’d escaped in.

He’d taken command of the group, it was his duty to keep them safe in this impossible situation. He’d never, ever felt lonelier.

Glenn jumped slightly at the sudden, slick sounds of transformation. Daryl had shed his shirt, knees popping out of place as he began shucking his pants just as he shuddered and doubled over, spine stretching and warping.

Rick had never seen him shift before. He knew Glenn had, had seen Daryl go from wolf to man just before the encounter with Hawthorne’s group… but Daryl’s constant need for privacy had kept this vicious, beautiful transformation away from Rick’s eyes up until now.

It was horrifying and mesmerizing at the same time. His skin was dancing, wrapping around bones that warped and bowed. His body was shivering, muscles rippling, growing and shrinking. Daryl’s eyes blinked up at him as his face grew unfamiliar and yet so familiar at the same time. Within seconds, the only humanity left to be seen of the man were those strange eyes.

The wolf -- and really, in these moments, even if he’d seen Daryl stand upright as a man a few moments ago, it was so easy to forget that this creature wasn’t simply a wild russet wolf who’d stumbled on their human camp -- padded towards him.

Rick reached out unconsciously when the wolf grew close enough to touch, fingers running across the ragged, scar dappled fur below his painfully blue eyes.

“It’s rare for werewolves to switch back and forth between gold and their natural colour.” Glenn said quietly, “Impossible for the full blooded.”

“You knew?” Rick flinched, fingers pulling back slightly from Daryl. He glanced around their camp, ensuring that all were sound asleep.

“Don’t worry.” He didn’t know if he was pacifying him about their group hearing, or the fact that Glenn _knew_.

Daryl whined quietly in his throat, bumping his hand with his snout. Rick smiled down at him unconsciously, threading his fingers through the long scruffy fur framing his face, where it blended into the soft mane of his neck.

“Did he tell you that I found out?” He asked, marvelling in the softness of the fluffy winter coat underneath the coarser hairs. It was true, the season was changing quickly, air growing colder around them.

“Soon after we got back from looking for Hershel. After you and Shane asked him to interrogate Randall.”

“I’m sorry for that.” The words spilled out of his mouth without thoughts, and he glanced down at the wolf who’s fur he was carding his hands through, without a thought in the world about personal space, “For asking that of you. It was wrong of me to force you into a situation where you had to…” _‘hurt someone, use your strength to torture a person, act like the monster society believes you are.’_

Daryl blinked up at him, huffing a hot breath against Rick’s leg. He’d curled around him slightly, now laying next to him with his head resting on Rick’s knee.

His body was warm, much warmer than a human would be at his side. Rick found himself leaning into that heat, that softness. The instinctual fear of the large, dangerous animal had dissipated long ago. This was Daryl, Daryl’s second skin.

“How long have you known?” Rick asked Glenn, scratching slightly behind Daryl’s ears. He hoped he didn’t find it insulting to be treated in such a way, like a pet, like a dog. It was an easy action to do, natural. He wanted to provide Daryl with affection and comfort and it was so much easier when he lay at his side not as a man, but instead as an animal so soft and warm.

“Since I met him.” Glenn glanced at Daryl, who had taken to grooming his large paws, long tongue sneaking between each clawed toe. “I did a project in school on-- well, y’know.”

Rick nodded. They had to be careful, even if their group appeared asleep, Daryl’s safety was of the utmost importance.

“It scared me at first. I didn’t know what to think of it.” Rick whispered, hand moving back to run through the soft undercoat of his neck, “I was so confused.”

Glenn shrugged, “I think a lot of people don’t really know what they really believe inside, when it comes to things like that, until they’re forced to confront it.”

Rick thought about broken babies, twisted half children on government websites, documentaries, horror movies, propaganda. The fear, the horror, the unknown. It was so far removed from the warm, breathing creature curled around him so peacefully. “But you?”

“Me?”

“Did you have to confront it?”

“Before that school project, I didn’t really care one way or another. Sometimes you just gotta have shit thrown in your face in order to process the world we live in.”

Rick smirked a little at that, staring down at his dirty feet. Daryl’s own paws were spotless now, licked clean of any dust or blood. No wonder he never bothered to bathe, as a wolf he could purge himself of the filthy world.

“We have to keep him safe.” Rick stated, ignoring Daryl’s croaking, almost humorous bark like a laugh in response. He could almost hear him saying, ‘ _I don’ need yer protection.’_

Glenn nodded, “I know.”

Daryl stretched out slightly, incredible jaws opening in a long, wide yawn, exposing his sharp teeth, tongue lolling out. After stretching, he shuffed and huffed, rolling over slightly. At the exposed belly, Rick couldn’t help but push his hand through the heavenly fur. It was like touching the warmest, safest clouds.

“You should go to sleep.” Glenn finally added, watching them. “Carol’s on guard duty next.”

“And after her?”

“T-Dog.”

He nodded, being pulled into that incredible warmth. Daryl didn’t move when he lay fully down next to him, revelling in the feel of the fur of his underbelly pressing up against him. For a second, he was pulled back into the reality that he was essentially cuddling another man just mere feet away from his slumbering wife. Daryl wasn’t a man though. He was a wolf, a creature, it wasn’t the same.

He shook his head. ‘ _It’s not the same. It’s not.’_

Daryl’s closed eyes opened, looking over at him, as though hearing his thoughts. He probably felt them, confused and chaotic over that bridge of a bond.

‘ _It’s just warmth.’_ He thought. ‘ _It’s just comfort.’_ Like a blanket or a bed, a companion, a dog. No, that was cruel, Daryl wasn’t any of those things. ‘ _This is just his skin. Another skin, the same as his human one. It’s Daryl all the same, whether he’s a wolf or a man, because he’s both and neither.’_

He sighed, feeling a sense of calm being pushed through the bond. He didn’t know if it was Daryl was feeling, or what he was pushing for Rick to feel, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

With the cold late fall winds picking up in strength, night aging, moon rising higher in the sky as though pushed by those winds, he was grateful for this.

His eyes slid shut, focusing on the steady rise and fall of Daryl’s chest, large ribs expanding and contracting, belly and sides moving and showing life. The quiet thudding of that heart, pumping blood through the animal’s body, each beat a vibration through both of them.

Animal, man, werewolf, human, Daryl was a balancing act and Rick was falling for him.


	18. the warmth we take.

**the warmth we take. _chapter eighteen._**

 

 _"Wolf, don't make a helpless move_  
_You see me and I see you_  
_So play along, like nothing's wrong_  
_Baby I love you, but the moon is blue."_ _  
_ \- wolf by highly suspect 

Somehow the air was even more frigid when they awoke, but the feeling of that beast at Rick’s side made the winds a little less biting. And after the harsh heat of fire on the farm, he was almost, _almost_ , glad for the cold.

Carol had already been long awake when he finally opened his eyes, and was pulling new firewood onto the dead, blackened ash pit, clearly intending to try to make some form of breakfast with the meager food they had left.

“We’ll go looking for supplies.” Rick said, startling her. She whipped around, looking at him with an indecipherable look in her eyes.

He wondered what he looked like, having declared himself their leader the night before, now lounging at the side of this great wolf seemingly without a care in the world. A king with a wild, untamed throne.

At the sound of his voice, Daryl’s ear flicked, and one gold eye opened.

“We have no cars.” Carol said bitterly. “No gas.”

“We’ll walk.”

“How far? We have no idea where we are.”

“As far as we need to.”

“But--”

She was interrupted by a low whine, Daryl’s throat moving over the quiet, pitching sound.

“It’ll be ok, Carol. I’ll make things ok.” Rick insisted, gently smoothing the fur over Daryl’s back. He’d miss this, when Daryl finally transformed back into his human skin. Because he’d still want to touch his hair, now slowly curling around his ears. He’d still want to press his hand into his, to touch the warmth of his skin. He couldn’t though. The rules of man and the rules of wolves differed.

Rick stood stiffly, knees popping from sleeping on the hard ground. Daryl watching him move towards Carol, remaining where he lay.

He carefully helped her build the fire, ignoring the looks she was throwing him. He knew it would take awhile to mend the relationships between them all, yesterday had been a difficult day. He didn’t regret his decisions though, in keeping the truth of the infection a secret, in asserting his command. There were no easy ways to deal with surviving in this world. He just had to do the best he had, with what he had. Carol would understand that eventually.

There was a noise behind him, and he turned just in time to see Daryl slip into the trees, tail disappearing into the undergrowth.

“Where’s he gone?” Carol asked nervously.

He frowned, “I don’t know.”

She sighed, staring down at the weak, young fire, “I figured he tells you everything.”

“Hardly.”

“He trusts you.” Her eyes met his, defiantly, “A lot.”

“I know.”

“Don’t betray him.”

He nodded, holding his hands over the meager warmth. He missed-- he missed a different kind of warmth. Fur, heat, muscles moving under his hands, life and blood.  
Hershel woke next, an early riser by habit. He grunted slightly, aging body not used to such things as cold, hard ground, “Well isn’t that fire a sight for sore eyes. And cold hands.”

“Have at ‘er.” Rick invited him to his side, moving to give the man some room. “We plan on going looking for a town today, keep goin’ the way we were headed. We’re bound to find somethin’ soon.”

“We have some food though, yes?” Hershel glanced at their small pile of supplies. They always kept some ammunition, food, and blankets in their vehicles for the exact situation they’d experienced: the need for a swift, uncomplicated getaway.

It wouldn’t be enough though, so much of their livelihood had gone up in flames. What they had now was just rations compared to the food they’d stockpiled on the farm, their tents, their weapons.

Carol had begun rummaging through the bags, pulling a couple of cans of soup out and a pot. They had no dishes, and no silverware, but they’d manage. They’d survive.

As the smell of soup filled the air, Carl and Lori woke, along with Beth. Glenn and Maggie both remained asleep, having found themselves in each other’s arms at some point during the night.

Lori avoided looking at Rick, seemed in fact to look everywhere but at him. Carl was distant as well. There was a trench dug between him and his family and he didn’t have the strength to fill it in and walk across to them.

It hurt. He couldn’t deny that it hurt. This was his family. Even though a small voice told him it would get better, easier, another louder part of him was screaming out for the comfort and stability of a family who loved him unconditionally.

It was the end of the world. How could he have expected things to stay the same? Till death do us part didn’t apply to a world like this, where death was certain, inevitable, and surrounded them constantly. She didn’t owe him her unconditional love when life had so many conditions now.

“Here.” Rick handed Carl the pot that was cooling on the rocks, “Be careful, it might still be a little hot.”

His son accepted it from him without looking into his eyes, tentatively bringing the edge to his lips and drinking.

“We can’t survive on soup, granola bars, and sardines.” Lori whispered, watching Hershel take inventory of their food.

“We’ll look for a town.” Carol parroted Rick’s early assurances.

“On foot?”

“It shouldn’t be too far.” Hershel started packing the foodstuffs away, “We had gotten quite a ways in the cars, we knew we were due to hit a town soon.”

“But we have no way of knowing.”

“No, we don’t.”

Lori accepted the pot from Carl, taking small sips. Rick could hear her stomach growling from where he sat so far away, the small child inside her crying in hunger.

Beth drank next, and when she tried to hand the pot to Rick, he shook his head and had her hand it to Hershel.

His eyes strayed back to the forest around them, to the spot where Daryl had disappeared. It was the same place where the two of them had lain, watching the moon, and it took all his strength not to go follow. He could hear no noises of life in those trees, he didn’t know where Daryl was but he wasn’t nearby.

He could only hope he’d come back soon.

The morning grew warmer, as warm as it could in the late fall, and the sun rose high noon before long. Rick’s anxiety grew as time passed, hours falling away, hours they could have been walking the highways towards, what, uncertainty? Oblivion? ‘ _I have no idea what I’m doing. I have no idea where we’re going. I can only wait for you.’_

His fingers twitched around clumps of dry grass, aching.

“So is Daryl your replacement for Shane?” Carol’s words were biting.

The group -- it felt wrong to call them a pack, when they were so full of schism and chaos, and when that wolf was still out there somewhere in the woods -- sat around the waning fire.

“What d’ya mean.” Rick muttered, watching the flames lick the logs.

“Your grunt. Your henchman.”

“Shane wasn’t my--”

“No, Daryl’s more passive and submissive. He’s Shane 2.0, right?” She snapped, as sharp as the sparks crackling around the fire.

“It’s not like that.” Rick bit back, “And you know it’s not.”

“Daryl’s a tool for you to use. A sharp pair of claws and eyes, a warm blanket at night…” It was practically a taunt, and he could feel Lori watching him carefully. Her gaze was burning into his back.

“Listen, I understand things are difficult for all of us right now.” He addressed the group as a whole, heart pounding. “We have to be able to trust each other.”

“It’s hard to do that, when you’ve been keeping secrets from us.” Lori stated blankly.

He nodded, “And I understand that. It’ll take time. We have to want this to work.”

How many times had he spoken those words to her, back before the turn, when their marriage was falling apart? _We have to want this to work._ The words tasted bad in his mouth.

He wouldn’t let Dale’s death be in vain, their group was _not_ broken. They’d heal. He’d do right by that man, and he’d honour his memory.

A little voice in his head told him Dale would never want him to be a dictator.

“I’m so hungry.” Beth said quietly, rubbing her stomach. Most of them hadn’t gotten much more than a few sips of soup, if any. They had no idea how long they had to make their rations last, and none were willing to sacrifice more of their food to ease their discomfort.

“We have to go.” Glenn sighed, “Are you sure Dayl will be back soon?”

All eyes were back to him, waiting for his answer.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

In that moment, he could feel it, a little jump in his heart, a sudden sensation in that strange, new spot in his chest where the bond lived. He noticed Glenn touch his own chest, frowning, and Carol exhale slowly.

A rustle in the bushes a few moments later confirmed it, as Daryl trotted into the clearing. Held delicately in his mouth were several rabbits, bitten cleanly through the neck, along with a plump looking pheasant. The creatures had been binging to fatten up for the winter, strong muscles and tender meat.

Glenn gave a sound of surprise and delight, standing up quickly.

“There’s slobber on ‘em.” Carl frowned, but Lori shook her head.

“We’ll skin them, honey. You won’t be able to tell.”

Daryl set his kills down next Rick, blinking up at him. He then padded over to his backpack, waiting patiently for Glenn to open it for him and retrieve a set of clothes.

“Shall we stay put for a little while longer, and fill our stomachs before setting off?” Hershel said jovially, “It’ll be good to regain our strength.”

None had eaten the day before, during the long drive away from the farm, from Sophia, from the past. It was like fasting, purging, cleansing.

They could feast now, here in the sunshine. Rick nodded, staring down at the dead animals. ‘ _Daryl’s a tool for you to use…’_

His jaw clenched. He knew what Carol saw, but she didn’t know what Rick felt. She couldn’t see into his heart, where the bond was. She could only feel her own, her own bond with the wolf. He wished not for the first time that humans could create those same bonds with other humans, so she could feel the strange, unidentifiable feelings inside him. The trust, the joy, the peace, the warmth he felt for Dayl.

“Did you eat already?” He asked, as Daryl stepped out of the trees once again, now wearing his human skin and a plaid shirt under his classic vest.

“Yeah.” He nodded, neurotically rubbing at his mouth, scrubbing the blood off with his palm. Rick didn’t know if it was self consciousness or something else that always made him so insistent on getting every trace of blood off his chin.

He missed a small speck on his neck, which Rick reached over and rubbed off with his thumb.

“Thanks.” Daryl grunted, looking away.

Glenn and Maggie set upon skinning the rabbits, while Hershel and Beth began plucking the bird. Beth was singing quietly while they worked, a happy, hopeful tune. Rick came over and sat down to help, grabbing the last remaining rabbit and pulled out his pocket knife. The edge was starting to dull, but it still slid into the skin easy enough.

He’d gotten a lot better at skinning animals, Daryl had helped him learn while on the farm. It was tricky to cut in the right spot to have the skin come off in one clean piece. It wasn’t something he’d ever had to learn in his life before the turn.

Daryl was watching him intently as he moved, cutting into the flesh and gutting the animal. He wondered if he should keep the offal, if Daryl would eat it the next time he wore his wolf skin. Food was still scarce, and every bit should be used.

“I’d eat it now, if it wouldn’ gross you out.” Daryl grinned toothily, as Rick carefully brought up the thought, “We’re hardly picky about our food, no matter what form we in. It don’ taste as good as a human though.”

“I’m sure humans taste really good.” Glenn jabbed.

“Y’ know whatta meant.”

Rick smiled, continuing to prepare the rabbit, “Well don’t let me stop you.”

He really didn’t want to watch though, he couldn’t imagine watching Daryl eat those slimy, raw organs with his human lips, his human teeth and tongue. It was too savage and animalistic, it blurred the lines too much. Human or wolf. Wolf or human. Balancing act.

His heart thudded.

His lips tingled.

Daryl didn’t move, watching Rick cut and slice. He didn’t move to grab the intestines and lungs, heart and stomach, guts, guts, guts -- Rick almost blushed, Daryl was only looking right at him. Those eyes, now gold, were watching his movements as though studying him.

Carol began setting up the fire, squaring the logs that had fallen into disarray.

“It’ll take awhile to cook these. We won’t have much time to travel this afternoon.” Hershel pointed out, constructing a spit.

“We likely won’t find a town today in anycase. We’ll get a bit of walking done, then set up camp again. We should keep our eyes out, there’s bound to be some stray houses around we can find shelter in.” Rick replied, setting his prepared rabbit down with Glenn’s. “This is a very rural area, but there were still people living here at some point.”

“Why not just stay here?” Beth asked quietly, “It’s- it’s nice.”

“We gotta keep movin’.” Maggie told her sister as she prepared her rabbit on a spit, “We need shelter. It’s cold here.”

Rick nodded in agreement, knowing Carol was staring hard at him, waiting for him to give them all an order or decree. It was common sense that the sooner they got a roof over their heads, the better. It wasn’t like the old days of tents and camping anymore, tents of which they had none, and weather turning colder each night.

With most of the rabbits skewered on spits and the pheasant being well on it’s way to being ready, the area became flooded with the mouthwatering rich smells of fresh meat being slowly cooked.

“We used to camp, back outside of Atlanta.” Glenn was telling Maggie, “We were all set up in quarry.”

“I take it things didn’t work out.”

Rick felt his stomach roll a little bit, thinking about the bloodshed. They’d lost several people on the farm, but it was nothing compared to the number bodies of their own they’d had to pile and stack up back in Atlanta. It was hard to believe he’d met Daryl for the first time just a couple days before that tragic night, watching him appear out of the brush like a biblical lycanthrope.

Glenn shook his head, looking to his rabbit blood stained hands, “No.”

“Have hope, son.” Herschel murmured, smiling, “Thing’s’ll be ok.”

Autumn breeze rolled through their cobbled together camp, making all shiver.

 

* * *

 

The body was meant to be nourished multiple times a day, and the gastrointestinal system tended to get quite upset by recurring starving and binging.

Carol tried to ease her sore stomach, having eaten with the raw primal energy of an underfed creature standing shivering on the cusp winter with no fat on her bones. It was a content sort of discomfort, it was such a rarity to feel full.

There was in fact still some bird left over, which Lori was still voraciously picking away at, but would likely be unable to finish judging how much she alone had eaten. Faced with a feast, the pregnant woman had packed away more food faster than Carol had ever seen anyone manage before.

It was nice not feeling empty.

It was nice to have a nagging reminder that she was alive.

Holding her stomach, Carol tried to not think about pregnancy or motherhood or emptiness or Sophia --

“Can you help me out?”

Carol glanced up to see Daryl blocking the sun, standing over her, “Huh?”

“Gonna get some water from that down there stream.” He gestured over his shoulder, to where they’d found a small creek earlier that day while waiting for his return, “Gonna put out the fire.”

“And you need my help?”

“Could carry a few pots

“I don’t think we need that much water.” Carol frowned, but rose, grabbing one of the two pots the group had in their emergency supplies. “Thought our big tough werewolf could handle it himself.”

“You know me.” He threw her a wolfy grin, “I’m actually incredibly fragile.”

She was grateful, feeling a wash of comfort and peace flood through the bond. Unconsciously, she gravitated closer to him as they walked.

It would still get some taking used to, the strange and incredible power of the packbonds. It was something she’d only the barest knowledge of before meeting the Dixons, but Carol decided that before feeling it for herself, she’d probably never have truly understood it even with all the research and information in the world.

“You can’t read my mind right?” She half joked, kneeling down as they reached the creek.

Daryl snorted, “I had a similar conversation wit’ Rick yesterday.”  
“And what’s the verdict, Wolf Grigorevich Messing?” She didn’t really want to consider what conversation he and Rick had been having. That was one to put in pin in, and get back to later. Something was making her more and more uneasy about Rick, and it wasn’t just the fact that Daryl was in love with him and being used by him.

“Grigore-huh?” Daryl blinked, then continued, “No, I can’t read your mind. Th’ bonds only go slightly beyond my natural abilities to sense mood.”

“I’ve heard stories about packs who can talk telepathically.”

“Those are just urban legends an’ shit.”

Scooping up a pot full of water, she watched Daryl peer down into the creek with crystal clear blue eyes.

“Daryl…” She paused, picking at the sleeves of her sweater.

“Hm?”

“Be careful.”

He didn’t say a word, but fixed his attention on her, those eyes seeing everything her voice couldn’t say. Finally he stood, “The creek’s not that deep, and I’m not gonna fall in anyway.”

‘ _You fell along time ago.’_

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
